


Morts ou Vivants

by CobraPandemic



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Drugs, Ghosts, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-18
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobraPandemic/pseuds/CobraPandemic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon should have listened to Travie. Now he’s dead too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: ghost!Brendon/Ryan, eventual Spencer/Jon  
> POV: Multi  
> Words: 2,654  
> A/N: This is based on a dream I had. I hope you love it!

**RYAN:**

  


 

Ryan highlights, underlines and _re-highlights_ the advertisement in the local real estate paper. Having been searching for the perfect place for months Ryan's beginning to grow weary. He wants to just move out of his fathers old home. It holds too many dark memories. Too many sleepless nights. Ryan can't take it.

  


 

Spencer, Ryan's best friend since they were five, had told Ryan about these condos. _Glenn Lakes_ they're called. Very clean, very modern and very _expensive_. Ryan is beginning to think he can't possibly afford a place like this on a Starbucks salary but, as if by God, he sees a bold printed add:

  


 

 ***GLENN LAKES* 2 BEDROOMS. 2 BATHROOMS. LUXURIOUS KITCHENETTE. WASHER/DRYER INSTALLED. FULLY FURNISHED. $975/MONTH. CALL: 555-1967**

  


 

"No shit..." Ryan says to himself earning sidelong glances from the four or five waiting customers. One is a tall guy with perfectly styled, shoulder length, brown hair. Ryan remembers him saying his name was William. Bill.

  


 

"Must've read something interesting." Bill says with a quirk of his thin red lips. He's in a tight, black and gray, striped, long-sleeved shirt and an equally- if not more- tight pair of black jeans. He also has a red bandana tied around his right knee.

  


Ryan smiles back politely. "Uh, you could say that. I think I found a nice place to move. Glenn Lakes. Really nice community." Ryan babbles as he makes William's usual coffee. Vanilla cappuccino. Plain. No additives. Less work for Ryan. 

  


"Yeah? I live there! Fourth floor. Do you know which apartment you'll be in?" Bill's brown eyes are aflame with enthusiasm and Ryan can't hold back his chuckle. 

  


 

"Nope. Here you go." He hands Bill his drink. "The ad just gives the minimum of details, ya know? I'll be calling on my break. Which should be...now." Ryan takes off his regulation Bucks apron and calls over his shoulder as he leaves from behind the counter. "Hey, Walker. I'm going on break!"

  


 

Ryan sees Jon Walker, his manager, emerge from the back room with red tinged eyes. Of course. Jon's high. _Again_.

  


 

"Alright. Have fun, Ross!" He calls winking, or _trying_ to wink, in William's general direction. Jon looks more like he's twitching though.

  


 

***

  


 

 **BRENDON:**

  


 

Brendon watches his mother take his things from his room. She has tears in her beautiful brown eyes and Brendon wants to hug her. Tell her it's okay.

  


"Mom..." He whimpers as she drags the last of his personal belongings toward the front door. "Mommy, please...please don't leave me!" 

  


Brendon is wide-eyed and panicked as he tries to intercept his mother. 

  


 

"Mom, wait! I'm here!" He shouts. She stops, almost seeming to shudder, before whipping her cell phone out. She dials with shaking hands and fingers.

 

"Honey, it's all packed. Yes. The landlord has already put an ad out for the place. Yes, I'll meet you at the hospital. I sure hope so. I sure hope so." Brendon frowns at the way his mother is just ignoring him. Who could be more important to her than her own _son_?

  


 

"MOM!!" Brendon lunges at his mother, trying to stop her from opening the door. Unfortunately, Brendon's body goes clean through hers- _Like air_ , he thinks- and he loses her. She leaves. And Brendon has a nagging feeling she isn't coming back.

  


He sobs thickly now, sliding to the floor and cries. 

  


 

***

  


 

 **RYAN:**

  


 

"So...which apartment, man?" Bill presses, chewing on a handful of fries. Ryan slides back into the diner booth, smile broad. He's got himself a condo!

  


 

"313. Next to the elevator." He says before sipping his chocolate shake. Bill makes a weird sound. Like a cat choking on a hairball.

  


"What?" Ryan inquires but Bill shakes his head quickly. 

  


 

"Haha, nothing. Choked on a fry." He clears his throat abnormally loud. "So, the landlord didn't tell you anything about the last tenant...did he?"

  


 

Ryan looks up from his cheese burger to scan the worry lines on William's face. "No. Why would he?"

  


 

Bill shrugs. "Nothing. It's no big deal. Just the last guy that stayed there. Was kind of... _weird_."

  


 

Ryan's brows furrow at this and he's about to ask Bill what he meant by "weird" but Bill is already standing, tossing a twenty onto the table.

  


 

"I have to go...pick up my sister. Had fun. Lunch was on me. Seeya, Ry." And with that, Bill disappears out the diner door leaving Ryan extremely irritated and even more curious.

  


 

***

  


 

 **BRENDON:**

  


 

Brendon is lying on what used to be his bed as he tries to analyze the situation. He can remember what happened. He doesn't want to remember but he does.

  


_He was at another party with Gabe and his crew over on the shady side of Vegas. They'd been doing lines, shooting up, drinking but Brendon...Brendon just did a little pot. He never messed with the hard shit._

  


 

 _Until that night._

  


_Gabe had just done about four lines and was downing his sixth vodka and red bull. Brendon just smiled his wide smile as Victoria passed him the bong. Despite his crush on Gabe, seeing the man doing line after line of coke was slowly turning Brendon off._

  


 

 _"Bden, c'mere." Gabe had whispered into Brendon's ear giving him goose bumps on his already cold skin. Gabe was standing over Brendon, smirk like sin written on his handsome face._

  


 

 _Brendon took one final toke from the glass bong and let the airy feeling bring him to his feet, into Gabe's waiting grasp._

  


 

 _"You're such a pretty thing, Urie." Gabe slurred into Brendon's neck as he led him outside to his car. Gabe’s breath smelled of weed and alcohol and hints of something he’d smoked from a glass pipe. Brendon didn’t know why but he followed._

  


 

 _Brendon had followed, too high to weigh the pros and cons. The only thing he could think about was Gabe Saporta. Right there. Wanting to be with him, Brendon Urie. It was all too surreal to stop._

  


 

 _Brendon was brought back to attention by a strong hand squeezing his thigh. Brendon moaned. Gabe smirked. "My place or yours, Urie?"_

  


 

 _"M-Mine." Brendon had stuttered out. He knew that he’d regret it. He knew and he chalked it up to his being high. And then Gabe’s heavy hand was rubbing Brendon’s erection through his jeans._

  


 

 _The rest of the drive had been a blur._

  


Brendon remembers stumbling into his apartment, 313- the one his parents pay the rent on-, with his body flushed to Gabe's. 

  


 

 _Gabe had him pressed hard against the door, licking sloppily into Brendon's eager mouth. It was all nasty, feral moans. Grinding and sucking and pulling. Somehow they'd ended up naked on Brendon's bed._

  


 

 _Gabe had been grunting as he grinded unforgiving and a wild against Brendon’s too tight jeans. Brendon was squirming from the sheer pleasure of it. The sheer unrealistic, this-could-never-happen-when-he’s-sober, this-shouldn’t-be-happening-at-all-ness of it. But Brendon just moaned._

  


 

“ _Gabe, please…”_

  


_"Hold on a second, beautiful." Gabe had said as he moved to straddle Brendon's hips._

  


 

 _Gabe reached into the pocket of his discarded trench coat and pulled out a magnum sized condom followed by a black pouch._

  


 

 _He smirked down at Brendon as he unzipped the pouch first. Brendon watched carefully but froze as Gabe held up a syringe and two rubber bands._

  


 

 _Brendon squirmed, his high slowly dissipating at the sight before him. "Wait, I don't fuck with heroin. I-"_

  


_Gabe had his lips around Brendon's half-hard cock before Brendon could finish his sentence._

  


 

 _"Fuck, Gabe...I..." Brendon couldn't form words. Gabe smirked around his cock before removing his mouth with a sinful slurping sound. He held up the needle again._

  


 

 _"Just this once, Bden. It makes the fuck so much better." Gabe leered at the younger boy and Brendon didn't want this. He didn't._

  


 

 _"No. Okay, I can't do this." Brendon tried to explain but Gabe wasn't leering playfully any more. He was stone cold. Emotionless._

  


 

 _"Lay the fuck back, you fucking slut." Gabe demanded, shoving Brendon back onto the mattress. Brendon couldn’t see Gabe in the dark anymore but in a funny way he had been glad. He wouldn’t have been able to handle seeing the look on Saporta’s face. Predatory. Brendon his prey. Travie had told Brendon. Warned him. But he just laughed. Because it’s GABE SPAPORTA. Brendon had been pinning for him since 7 th grade. Pft…Travie had been right._

  


 

 _Travie’s dead now._

  


 

 _And Brendon was about to be too._

  


_"GABE WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU-" Brendon had begun, but he cried out as the needle was driven into his neck._

  


 

 _Over and over._

  


_The sting of it told Brendon it was heroin. Too much of it._

  


 

“ _No! Please!” Brendon had screamed at the top of his lungs but his struggle hadn’t been much. His limbs were numb and his head throbbed as he felt Gabe thrust into his unstretched hole. Brendon slapped Gabe. Bit Gabe._

  


 

 _Gabe just laughed._

  


 

 _"You‘re such a pretty thing, Urie." Was the last thing Brendon had heard before his entire world went black._

  


 

For all Brendon remembers, he passed out and Gabe left and he's still dreaming. But in the very back of his mind- The part that says, Dude, it's Gabe we're talking about- Brendon knows he's dead. Or close to it.

  


 

And he wants to get up, find his way to the "light" but he just can't. He can't leave. Because he knows he's leaving something...someone behind.

  


 

But Brendon has no idea who.

  


 

***

  


**RYAN:**

  


 

Ryan is walking down the hall of his new condo when he bumps into someone. It's a guy, a little shorter than Ryan. The guy is wearing jeans tighter than anything Ryan has seen on Bill and has tattoos covering every visible surface of his body. His hair is dark brown, almost black and it hangs limply in his face. Ryan notices eyeliner smudges underneath tired, broken hazel eyes.

  


 

"I'm so sorry-" Ryan apologizes for bumping into him. The guy just stares at him. "-I was just...looking for apartment 313? I'm moving in." Ryan tries for a smile.

  


The guy's eyes expand and he seems to glare at Ryan before rushing off in the other direction. 

  


 

"Okay...weird." Ryan says aloud as he paces the hall for the apartment in question. 305. 307. 309. 311. 313.

  


Ryan sighs deeply. This is it. His first apartment. No drunk dad to tell him what to do and how to do it. It's just Ryan. 

  


 

Only Ryan.

  


 

He pushes the door open once it's unlocked and steps into a low-roofed foyer. The place has hard wood floors that smell like lemon Pledge and wax. The walls are all painted burgundy with a stripe of cream colored wallpaper across the top. The furniture is all wood based. The couches are black faux leather and the television is mounted high up on the wall.

  


 

"Nice..." Ryan says just as his phone vibrates in his back pocket. He fishes it out to see Spencer's name flashing.

He answers with a smile. 

  


 

"What's up, Smith?"

 

"Oh, the usual. Taking another shift at the thrift store. How's the new place?"

  


 

"It pretty fucking sweet. Hardwood floors. Leather couches and-" Ryan runs a longing hand up and down the stainless steel freezer. "-The _perfect_ fucking kitchen. Dude, its worth every penny, I swear."

  


Spencer is yelling at someone and Ryan realizes from the loud wails that follow that it was a child Spencer had just verbally assaulted. 

  


"Huh. Can't wait to see it. House warming party? Invite Gerard and the guys?" 

  


 

Ryan grins as he heads down a long hall to his new bedroom. "Hell yes! Get some drinks going. Break the place-"

  


 

Ryan stops in the doorway and blinks once. Twice. A third time. There's no mistaking it though, there is a man in his new bed. A thin, short, pale man with wide pink lips, messy brown hair and red-rimmed glasses. The guy is asleep.

  


 

Ryan can't help it as he screams, albeit like a woman, and nearly drops his phone.

  


 

The guy on the bed jumps up, sees Ryan standing there about to shit himself, and the bastard smiles. Smiles a wide smile that catches Ryan off guard.

  


 

"S-spin...I'll call you later...bye." Ryan hangs up on Spencer and dials the first digit in 911.

  


 

"Who. The fuck. Are you?" Ryan's voice trembles tightly. The guy turns his head sideways like a confused puppy. Ryan grimaces.

  


 

"You can see me?"

  


 

Ryan huffs at this guy's extreme stupidity. "OF COURSE I CAN SEE YOU! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?!"

  


 

Now the guy looks pissed. "For your fucking information, asshole. This is my apartment. So I'd lower my voice if I were you."

  


Ryan thinks that maybe he missed some crucial information like perhaps the part about having a roommate. But then he realizes that, no, there was no mention of any such thing. 

  


 

"I'm calling the cops, you freak." He declares and begins to dial but the guy starts to... _laugh._

Ryan stares at him, wide-eyed and pissed off. 

  


 

"Go ahead. They'll just think you're crazy. They can't see me." The guys says in a sing-song tone, big brown eyes innocent.

  


 

"What?"

  


 

The guy steps up to Ryan and holds out a hand for Ryan to shake. "Nice to meet you. I'm Brendon Boyd Urie."

  


 

Ryan doesn't know why but he reaches a hand out to shake Brendon's. Ryan turns pale when his hand comes to a fist and goes straight through the boys hand.

  


  
Brendon smirks. "And I'm a ghost."  



	2. Chapter Two

**BRENDON:**

 

Brendon sort of half-hovers over the man's unconscious body, the slow song of: _I'm dead and I killed him. I'm dead and I killed him_ , playing in his brain. 

 

The fact that Brendon A) hasn't figured out where- as an...apparition- he is supposed to be. B) is freaked the fuck out. And C) is pretty sure the guy down there is going to refuse to help him, doesn't exactly make him _want_ to call 911. 

 

So Brendon opts to sit down and wait. Because if the dude isn't dead, he'll be getting up. 

 

Brendon takes this time to scan the gentleman. The guy [looks](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/4150.html) to be a little older than Brendon is... _was_. He has lightly tanned [skin](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/4150.html), long piano fingers, brown almost-wavy hair, and if Brendon remembers correctly, big honey eyes.  


 

He's wearing a paisley head band that pushes his hair back, a brown vest over a light blue dress shirt, tight dark brown dress pants and a pair of brown suede boots. He looks like he stepped out of a Beatles musical video. 

 

Brendon stares. 

  
And stares. 

 

Blinks. 

 

And stares some more. 

 

Brendon grows bored of staring within the minute because, c'mon, he's _Brendon_ , and decides to go and visit his best friend down the hall. If there's anyone that knows about supernatural shit, it's Pete Wentz. 

 

 

 

 

**RYAN:**

 

Ryan wakes up but refuses to actually _open_ his eyes. There is no way there was a ghost- a _hot_ ghost no less- in his brand new apartment. He doesn't know whether to call his landlord, a shrink or fucking Ghost Busters. 

 

In a slow, deliberate fashion, Ryan opens each eye to a thin crack. There is a tiny bit of afternoon sun shining through the window but nothing else. _No one_ else. Ryan does a mental happy dance to celebrate his non-insanity, then scowls at the fact that only insane people do mental happy dances. 

 

Ryan is _so_ fucked. 

 

He pulls himself to his feet, clutching the edge of the door frame to stop the rushing vertigo. He realizes that he has managed a nasty scrape on the heel of his hand and trudges toward the kitchen to clean himself up. 

 

The kitchen itself is the one thing about the place Ryan absolutely adores. The stoves are flat top, floors shiny white tile, counters and center island are marble and all of the [appliances](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/4150.html) are stainless steel. It's _perfect. Spencer would love it,_ Ryan tells himself.

 

Ryan doesn't realize he'd been speaking aloud until someone says: 

 

"The kitchen was my favorite too." 

 

Ryan whips around on his heel to see the...the... 

 

He doesn't finish his thought as he promptly faints _again._

 

 

**BRENDON:**

 

Brendon almost curses at the man's unconscious form on the tile floor. Really, the guy must be half fainting goat. 

 

Brendon sort of wishes the guy would not faint upon seeing him. It would be nice to have a conversation with him, seeing as Pete thinks some dumb kids knocked on his door and ran off. Brendon frowns. His own best friend can't see him. But this random fainting beautiful man can. And did Brendon mention the guy on the floor is drop dead _gorgeous_? Yeah well...he is. 

 

Brendon is looking out the window when the body beneath him begins to stir. He steps back far enough to avoid scaring the guy shitless as the man's honey eyes flutter open. _God he's beautiful_ , Brendon muses. 

 

"Could you maybe... _not_ faint again? I kind of need your uh...help?" Brendon stutters out gently as if persuading a small child. The man blinks before standing wobbly. With his wide eyes and thin, shaking legs he resembles a new born baby deer. Brendon almost reaches out a hand to steady him but thinks better of it. 

 

No need to give the guy another reason to pass out. 

 

"Help with what?" 

 

Brendon is the one to go wide-eyed now. He hadn't expected a response that quickly. 

 

"With me uh... crossing over. I was thinking that maybe I can't cross over because I have to make amends or something. So like-" 

 

"If I agree to help will you go away?" The guy intrudes and okay, Brendon will admit that his words stung a little. But help is help. Brendon is in no place to be picky. 

 

"Yes. If you help I'll get out of your hair. Promise." 

 

The guy stares Brendon up and down for maybe...three minutes before nodding. 

 

"What do I need to do?" He asks, voice emotionless and robotic. It makes Brendon cringe. 

 

"Alright well...first tell me your name." Brendon says almost cheerily, hoping to get some kind of emotion from this guy. 

The guy, yet again, looks Brendon up and down before answering. "Ryan Ross." 

 

_Ryan. Ryan Ross. It's somehow fitting_ , Brendon thinks. He beams at Ryan. 

 

"Right! Well, Ryan Ross. I just need you to make amends for me. Talk to a couple people. Tell them I'm sorry for...whatever. Simple." Brendon only says _whatever_ because he's never been a particularly terrible person. Well, aside from _occasionally_ taking Pete's shirts and forgetting to return them but Brendon doesn't count that as something worth repenting about. 

 

Ryan looks sick and Brendon prays he doesn't faint a third time. That would suck. Luckily Ryan takes a deep breath, squaring his bony shoulders. 

 

"Who do I amend with first?" 

 

**RYAN** : 

 

Ryan has not the _slightest_ clue why or how he is doing this. All he knows is that he wants Brendon to disappear permanently before Spencer and the guys come. Because god knows Gerard would have a field day with a ghost around to entertain him. 

 

Gerard, Ryan concludes, is _psychotic._

 

Ryan finds himself a few doors down from his own, Brendon flanking him closely bringing about a chilling breeze along with him. 

 

"So this is really important. Pete is my best friend. So don't screw this up." Brendon coaches as he knocks on the door. Ryan still doesn't know what the fuck he's doing helping a ghost. But he doesn't have much time to think because the door swings open. 

 

In the doorway is the odd tattooed guy from earlier. He doesn't look happy at Ryan's presence. Lucky for tattoo man, Ryan doesn’t give a shit. 

 

"What do you want, man?" The dude asks shortly, weight shifting from this foot to the other. Ryan narrows his eyes first at the man then at Brendon who happens to look like he's ten seconds from body slamming the guy to the ground. 

 

"Are you Pete?" 

 

The tattooed guy looks around as if there are hidden cameras watching from a near by corner. Ryan cocks his hip in a totally Spencer-way and waits. 

 

"Why? Who wants to know?" He demands. Ryan looks over at Brendon who shrugs. What a fucking asshole he is. Not even willing to lend a fucking sentence. Bastard. 

 

"I'm here to make amends for Brendon." Ryan says outright. 

 

 

**PETE** : 

 

O_o Wtf?!! 

 

**RYAN** : 

 

The Pete guy seems to be about to spontaneously combust from the news he's received so Ryan tries a different approach. 

 

"Brendon really misses you and wants to say a few things- through me- before crossing over." 

 

Brendon shifts a little further away from Ryan and Pete, face turning even more pale than it already is. 

 

Pete surprisingly nods, opening the door further so that Ryan could come in. Brendon manages to slide in before it shuts. 

 

Pete leads Ryan- and unknowingly Brendon- into a living room identical to Ryan's. He waves a lazy hand for Ryan to sit. Ryan obliges and sits, ignoring the smell of musk and dog. Brendon just hovers- as per usual- in the corner, letting Ryan handle everything. 

 

"So, tell me again why you're here-" Pete stops, gesturing for a name. 

 

"Ryan Ross." 

 

"-Ryan Ross?" He finishes with a flourish and yeah. _Definitely_ a flaming fag. But so is Ryan so...pot meet kettle. 

 

"I came for Brendon. He died and-" 

 

"Do you think you’re fucking _funny_ , bastard? Did one of the Cobras put you up to this??!" Pete is standing now, glaring down at a confused Ryan. 

 

"I-" Ryan looks to Brendon who looks twice as confused. Ryan flails his arms at Brendon and mouths, _What the hell?_

 

"Do you get off on this type of thing?! You're a sick fuck!" Pete shouts and okay, fuck this. Ryan stands, trumping Pete by a few inches. Pete doesn't back down though. 

 

"I don't know what you're talking about man! Your best friend's ghost sent me here! The guy is trying to fucking cross over and you're not helping him!" Ryan is furious now because how did he get dragged into this shit? 

 

Brendon is shaking, eyes flicking back and forth between Ryan and Pete. 

 

Pete is shaking too but from pure, unadulterated anger. 

 

"BRENDON IS NOT FUCKING DEAD!" Pete screams and okay, what? 

 

"What?" Ryan and Brendon blurt simultaneously. Of course Pete only hears Ryan. 

 

"Brendon isn't dead." Pete says again, flat... empty. 

 

"Then where is he?" 

 

Pete glares at Ryan. 

 

"He's in a coma. Has been for eight weeks now." 

 

And if ghosts could faint...Brendon would be hitting the floor. 


	3. Chapter 3

**RYAN** : 

To say that Pete had _flipped out_ on Ryan would be an understatement. Pete didn't just _flip out,_ he ran into a back room of his apartment and came back with a aluminum bat, swinging it recklessly in every direction. The blunt end went straight through Brendon's head a couple of times.

 

Needless to say, Ryan got the fuck out of [dodge](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/4526.html), Brendon on his flanks muttering, _“Pete would never...Pete isn't violent. Pete is my best friend.”_

 

Ryan wants to say, “He _was_ , Brendon. He _was_ your best friend.” But he doesn't. 

 

They don't go back to Ryan/Brendon's apartment. Instead Ryan follows Brendon up three flights of _Emergency Only_ stairs to what Ryan presumes is the roof. The October air is cool and windy as it whips Ryan's hair into a tussle across his gradually paling skin. He manages to look over to where Brendon is staring off over the Vegas skyline. Ryan notices that the wind doesn't move Brendon's hair. He also notices that Brendon is somehow paler. Maybe even slightly transparent. 

 

Ryan wills himself out of his place near the large iron door and moves to stand next to Brendon. The boy is all but shaking and Ryan wonders if ghosts can feel cold. 

 

“If I'm just in a coma...why did my [mom](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/4526.html) sell my apartment?” Brendon says monotonously. Then, “If I'm just in a coma why is Pete at home mourning and not there by my side?” Brendon's voice is becoming bitter. “If I'm just in a fucking coma why the fuck am I a _ghost_?!” Brendon [looks](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/4526.html) to Ryan as if Ryan knows all.

 

And Ryan can't answer any of those questions. And God, he wants to be able to answer Brendon and tell him everything will be fine but Ryan doesn't know if everything will. 

 

“I'm sorry.” Is what he eventually says after weighing a dozen responses in his head. None were quite enough so he summed it up. Why use five words for what you can say in two?

 

“I am too.” Brendon responds and Ryan notices Brendon's body is flickering. Notices how he can see the A/C unit through Brendon's abdomen. The darkening sky through Brendon's gravely sad face. Ryan wants to cry.

 

“Brendon, don't leave.” Ryan whispers but Brendon isn't there anymore. Just something cold where he used to be and Ryan swears he hears his own name as a gust of wind whips past him.

 

  


**BRENDON** : 

 

Brendon has _no_ fucking clue where he is right now. One second he's talking to Ryan and the next he's...here. Brendon's not even sure where _here_ is but from observation he thinks it's Central Park. Which, okay is pretty fucking random. 

 

He's sitting on a bench next to a pond and there are people. Walking, talking, smiling, _living_ human beings. It makes Brendon irrationally upset. 

 

Across the way there is a swan, all white feathers and pure indescribable beauty, feeding on the tiny bread crumbs that the old couple is throwing onto the surface of murky green waters. And Brendon sighs. Because, wow. 

 

“The world just seems so much more beautiful when you're not a part of it anymore, huh?” A sweet female's voice makes Brendon jump in his seat. He turns sideways to see a beautiful blond girl with shiny blue eyes and legs to die for. The girl is dressed in tight white jeans and a white tee shirt and white heels and she has white, gaping, remarkable appendages attached to her shoulder blades. Brendon recognizes them as wings.

 

The girl giggles at Brendon's awe-stricken gaze. “I'm Maja. I'm you guardian angel, Brendon Boyd Urie. Born April 12,1987.” 

 

And Brendon is speechless. Speechless because the only fucking way _this_ is real is if he is in fact _dead._ Seriously, legally, all-hands-down _dead._ He want's to throw up.

 

Maja shifts herself to face forward and her wings expand wide, nearly knocking Brendon off of the bench. She sends him an apologetic smile and he doesn't smile back. He can't. 

 

“I suppose I'll do all the talking then.” She says, eying Brendon sideways. Brendon doesn't even look at her. Just turns away to watch the swan from earlier. But it's not there anymore. The beautiful, white swan is gone. But Maja, the beautiful angel with the white clothing and white wings, is here. Brendon connects the dots pretty quickly but stays silent.

 

“What happened to you, Brendon, was a tragic scene. It was never supposed to happen that way but you weren't heading in the right direction. You were straying from your path.” Maja begins, and Brendon is listening. Still not looking at her, but listening nonetheless.

 

“Father has a plan for everyone Brendon. He has a big plan for you. And for Peter and Gabriel as well.” She says Gabe's name very gravely. “And for Ryan Ross too. But what happened to you that night, Brendon, it construed that path. And now I have to help you get back on the right track. That is if you _want_ me to help you.”

 

Brendon can't say anything. Because all of the years and years of going to church could not have prepared him for _this._

 

“Will you allow me to help you Brendon?” Maja presses gently. And Brendon finds his voice.

 

“If I don't let you help me?” He asks, voice shaking with fear of what her answer may be. God would send him to hell? 

 

“Well, you would become a guardian angel to some lost soul as well. Like myself and countless other before me. But I made the wrong choice, Brendon. I want you to make the right one. So, will you let me help you?”

 

Brendon can tell this is Maja's final time asking. There will be no, _“Is that your final answer?”_ because this isn't a television game show. This is Brendon's life. 

 

So Brendon opts to just nod. Maja smiles. Everything goes black. 

 

 

 **RYAN:**

 

Ryan hasn't seen Brendon for almost a week now. Work has been tedious. Jon has been... _high_. Things have been relatively normal. But Brendon could still come back which is why he has to lie to Spencer. 

 

“Yeah, Spencer. I just, we can't do this dinner party thing tomorrow. At least not at my apartment.” Ryan says into his Blackberry as he walks down the nearly empty Vegas strip. Which is, okay, weird because it's the fucking _Vegas strip_.

 

But then again it _is_ 12 am and Ryan _is_ refusing to enter his own apartment. 

 

“Ryan, what the fuck do you mean? You were just babbling about how absolutely perfect the place is and now you don't want to have the house-warmer? Gerard will be pissed.” Spencer bitches and Ryan can practically _see_ his bitchface. 

 

“I figured as much. Gerard is a dick. And it's not that I don't want to it's-” Ryan is trying to think of a lie when he trips over something furry and strikingly white.

 

The cat mews at Ryan pathetically, looking at him with strangely beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that put Spencer's to shame. 

 

“-It's a flea infestation. The creepy neighbor lady, Pearl. She has a dozen fucking cats, dude. And there are like...fleas. All over the place. So the exterminator is coming tomorrow. It wouldn’t be right to throw a party in that kind of mess.” Ryan breathes out and the little white cat is sitting on it's rump looking absolutely bored shitless.

 

“Ryan, I've known you for 16 years, goddamn you! You're lying to me and I swear-”

 

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Oh, Spence, I have to go. That's my landlord calling. Probably about the fleas. Bye, Smith.” And he hangs up abruptly on his best friend. 

 

He will pay for it later. Spencer Smith holds a mean grudge. 

 

Ryan is about to continue his walk but the little white cat mews again, more demanding now. Almost saying, _“Hey, look at me!”_

 

“Hey there, girl. What's the matter?” Ryan coos down at the feline, scritching it behind one of it's folded ears. The cat mews again, then pulls away.

 

“Where you going, kitty?” Ryan asks, as if the cat was going to answer. The cat swishes it's tail at Ryan as if to say, _“Follow me.”_ and starts sprinting up the sidewalk.

 

“Okay.” Ryan draws out and paces behind the cat, keeping up easily with his long legs. The cat takes him about four blocks down the way and stops on the steps of a building. Ryan looks up at the sign.

 

**SUNRISE HOSPITAL AND MEDICAL CENTER**

 

He looks down at the cat who is haphazardly clawing at it's little white collar. Ryan squints as a red sliver of paper falls from it, landing on the step below the cat. 

 

Ryan bends, first looking at the cat's silver tag. 

 

**MAJA**

 

“Strange name for a cat.” Ryan says and the cat almost rolls it's eyes. If cats could do that.

 

Next Ryan picks up the sliver of red paper, turning it over in his fingers. He reads: 

 

**ROOM 510**

 

He reads it over and over before deciding to make sense of it. Room 510 must be in the hospital. That cat must want Ryan to go to Room 510. 

 

“Okay, Maja-”

 

Ryan turns around in a full circle, searching for a ball of white fur. He sees none. The cat has run off. 

 

“Great.” He murmurs and ascends the steps, refusing to think about how weird his life has become.

 

The hospital is very quiet and very clean. Ryan assumes it's privately owned. Only for people with mansions and limos. Ryan never thought he could hate hospitals more. 

 

There are a couple of senior citizen sitting in designated places reading Life and Style and Daily Diabetic magazines. Across the way there is a bored looking receptionist chewing loudly on gum. Ryan instantly wants to smack her. 

 

He approaches her and she gives him an uninterested look. “Can I help you?” She asks. 

 

Ryan scratches the back of his neck because remind him _why_ he is doing this again? 

 

“I...Room 510.” 

 

“And how are you related to Mr. Urie?” The girl surveys, eying Ryan skeptically.

 

Urie? As in... 

 

Why hadn't Ryan seen this coming? 

 

“He's my cousin. I heard what happened. Flew all the way from New York.” Ryan lies. Spencer taught him well. Even though his lies don't work _on_ Spencer.

 

The girl stops chewing. “Fifth floor, fifth door on the left.” And then she's back to looking bored. 

 

Dumb bitch. 

 

Ryan keeps his head low as he enters the nearby elevator. There's a doctor in it and Ryan doesn't want to draw attention to himself. 

 

The guy is a hell of a lot taller than Ryan by far and he has a goofy air about the way he stands. He's more of a character than a human being. 

 

The elevator doors ding open and the doctor motions for Ryan to exit first. Ryan does and starts to count the doors. When he reaches the fifth door, he realizes that the doctor is still behind him. Waiting. 

 

“I...My cousin-”

 

“It's quite alright, young sir. I'm Brendon's doctor. Dr. Ripley.” The doctor explain quickly, reaching around Ryan to open the door. “I'll give you time with him.”

 

Ryan takes the cue and goes inside. 

 

The room is full of flowers and balloons and blindingly colorful stuffed animals. It's clear that Brendon was... _is_ a loved person. 

 

Ryan walks carefully over to the hospital bed, the heart monitor's consecutive beeps matching his foot steps. He closes his eyes against the sight in front of him. Because he would rather have seen Brendon beaten and bruised beyond repair than to see this perfect caricature of angelic beauty. 

 

Brendon's hair makes a messy auburn halo against the white pillow beneath his head. His face is pale but unbelievably perfect too. Ryan wants to reach out and touch the purple veins under his thin lids. Trace the curvature of his pink lips that seem to be smiling almost. 

 

Ryan gasps though, at Brendon's neck. The skin is withered and dry and black and purple. There are several punctures there from a needle and Ryan has to hold a hand over his mouth to stop the vomit. 

 

Ryan doesn't know Brendon. Not the real Brendon but he does know that Brendon could have never done _anything_ to deserve _this_. 

 

“I'm so sorry this happened to you.” Ryan says, more hoping that a stupid movie miracle would occur. Hoping that Brendon's eyes would flutter open and he would smile at Ryan and things would be alright.

 

The door opens and Dr. Ripley enters, holding a chart to his chest. 

 

“Have you said your farewells, young man?” Dr. Ripley asks and Ryan freezes. Farewells?

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Well, I would assume, since I haven't seen you here before, that you are here to say goodbye to your cousin. Am I correct?”

 

Ryan is seriously being mind-fucked to hell right now because, what? 

 

“Why would I be saying goodbye to him? He's going to wake up. It's just a coma.” Ryan says, staring at Brendon's angelic beauty. And the boy just looks peaceful.

 

“Sir, the family. _Your_ family decided weeks ago to pull the plug on this. We will be doing it on Wednesday afternoon.”

 

And time seems to stop. Because that's two days away. And Ryan doesn't know how his life has become this. He just moved into the place a week ago! What the fuck is going on?! How can he give a damn about a person he's never met a day in his life? 

 

Ryan doesn't say another word. He takes off running, a mantra of _Brendon, Brendon, Brendon_ dancing in his head. He needs to find Brendon. He needs to save Brendon.

 

He thinks he loves Brendon.


	4. Chapter 4

**BRENDON** : 

  


When Brendon comes to, he's back on the roof top. The sky is glowing with the pink of dawn and the cool fall wind is blowing his hair around wildly. Brendon absently brushes his hair from his face. 

  


Then he freezes like a prostitute caught giving a blowjob because...how is his hair _moving_? Surely, if Brendon remembers correctly, which he's pretty fucking sure he does, his hair is NOT supposed to _move_. 

  


Brendon looks closely at the long-curly blond hair hanging in his face. 

  


What. The. Fuck. 

  


With a disbelieving huff he manages to look down at himself. He's no longer wearing his own clothes. He has on khaki cargo pants that show off semi-hairy legs. Legs that are much longer and much more tan than he remembers. He has on a red tee shirt that exposes equally hairy arms. Arms that are pronounced, thick and muscular. 

  


Brendon then reaches around his torso and feels the unmistakable tightness of a six pack. Of a man that works out everyday. 

  


Brendon hasn't worked out a day in his life. 

  


“Fuck...” He breathes out, the panic rising in his stomach like vomit. “Fuck...” And then he hears his voice. _Really_ hears it. It's deeper. No longer the mid-soprano he remembers but a low alto.

  


Brendon screams. 

  


Brendon screams and _flails_ and screams and _flails_ and screams. Then he stops- touches his ass. His formerly perfect, award-winning apple bottom ass. Realizes it's as flat as Ryan's voice- then he proceeds to pass out. 

  


  


**RYAN** : 

  


Ryan arrives home to find the apartment empty and he can't stop the sinking feeling he gets. He had always wanted to live alone and come home to peace and quiet and stillness. But this... _this_ isn't right. Because Brendon isn't here disrupting Ryan's peace and quiet. 

  


Brendon is gone and Ryan is scared. 

  


“Bren?” He finds himself calling for the boy, hoping he's playing some ridiculous joke because he seems like the type to goof off. There's is no laughter though. Ryan runs a hand through his matted hair.

  


“Brendon?” He tries again, walking down the hall leading to the bedroom. Ryan leans his head carefully against the wooden door, clutching the brass handle tightly. _Please, God,_ he prays. 

  


 

Ryan twists the knob, praying that Brendon is just sleeping again like he had been the first day Ryan met him. Ryan isn't going to faint this time. He's going  _tell_ Brendon. Tell the beautiful doe-eyed boy that he loves him.

  


 

When Ryan opens the door, the bed is empty. Just a mess of sheets and dirty clothes.

  


 

And if anyone asks, anyone at all...

  


 

Ryan  _doesn't_ collapse onto the bed. Ryan  _doesn't_ curl into a ball. And Ryan most certainly does  _not_ bawl his eyes out.

  


  


 

**BRENDON** :

  


 

“Brendon...” Brendon _hears_ Maja. The dirty, conniving angel that turned him into a fucking _skater_ boy. He _hears_ the bitch but...

  


He chooses to ignore her. 

  


 

“Brendon Boyd-”

  


 

“Go. Away.” He grumbles. His head is throbbing and he could have sworn that his godly ass is no more. With shaking hands he reaches for his bottom, feels nothing, then opens his eyes. Maja is there, all holy blonde hair and bright blue eyes and Brendon would kill her if she weren't dead already.

  


 

“Give it back.” He says sternly, sitting up and getting in the angel's face. “Give it the fuck back! Right the fuck now! Take me back to Ryan!” He shouts, stomping his foot. Well, not _his_ foot but...you get what he means.

  


 

“Brendon, calm down. Let me explain the rules.” Maja begins, touching Brendon's shoulder. He snatches away, scoffing in her direction. Maja is unfazed.

  


 

“The _rules_?! This isn't some kind of...” Brendon flails. “...twisted angel board game, okay?! This is my life!”

  


 

“I'm not playing a game with you, Brendon. I'm trying to help you. If you would just hear me out. Please?” Maja begs. Brendon is pretty sure she's lying again. Last time she said she would help he ended up like this.

  


 

“Help how? Why am I not me anymore?” He demands, standing finally to see where he is. He isn't on the roof of the apartment anymore but inside the apartments. Not his/Ryan's apartment. But another.

  


Maja makes a tiny gesture with her hands. “Oh! Because you Jace now! Jace Michael Sanders!” She tells Brendon as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

  


“Excuse me? I'm who?” Brendon asks, cringing against a voice that isn't his own. 

  


Maja grabs his hand and pulls him to sit on a black leather sofa. 

  


 

“Well, I went to the Big Guy and asked him if he could maybe create a diversion. Give you a little more time before your folks...you know...”

  


 

And Brendon doesn't know.

  


 

Maja continues. “...You...don't know about them pulling the plug?” She asks and Brendon knows he's pale. Stiff in the seat. His own parents? His own family?

  


 

“I've only been like this for a couple days!!” He shouts, and Maja looks so pained he thinks he's hurt her feelings.

  


 

“Brendon. Honey...it's been nearly three months.” She tells him. Seeing his confused and broken expression she adds, “Time flies when you're not alive.”

  


 

Brendon can't breathe. And it was never a problem before but in this new, living body, he has to breathe. He takes a deep breath, feeling his soul shake. This can't be happening.

  


 

“So..so what? What happens now?”

  


 

“Well, the Big Guy was able to get you two more weeks starting tomorrow. And in those two weeks, you have to make Ryan fall in love with you again. In this new form. But you can't tell him that its you.” Explains Maja. Brendon is now pacing the room grumbling obscenities under his breath.

  


“How the fuck am I going to do that? Hmm? If Ryan is in love with me, the _real_ me, how is he ever going to fall for some _random_ dude in two weeks?! That's impossible.” And it is. At least Brendon thinks it is. 

  


 

“Brendon, you haven't even _tried_ yet. Just...” Maja pushes her hair back tiredly and fishes a wallet and a set of keys from her back pockets. “Look, this is your new apartment, the keys to your new car, this is your new I.D. You're still living in Glenn Lakes, just a couple doors down from Ryan who is currently at work. Go there. Meet him. Make him love you. But you can't _tell_ him it's you. You can not _tell_ him.” She keeps emphasizing the “tell” and Brendon is about to cry from the sheer frustration of the situation.

  


 

“Maja, I-”

  


 

“Go. Bren. Don't _tell._ ” She says, and then she's gone in a flush of white wings.

  


 

“Ugh! Bitch!” He shouts to the empty air. There's a sudden crash from behind him and Brendon turns to see the remnants of the pure white angel figurine that has _magically_ fallen from the shelf.

  


He smirks, glad that Maja heard his insult. 

  


  


**RYAN** : 

  


It's been another week and still no Brendon. 

  


Ryan has been having nightmares. Ones involving needles and screaming and the droll of dead heart monitors. 

  


 

He's also been having dreams. Once involving beaches and puppies and Ryan holding Brendon and kissing Brendon and  _smiling_ and  _laughing_ with Brendon.

  


 

Ryan  _hates_ those dreams. He'd rather have the fucking nightmares.

  


 

Ryan has also given up on keeping Spencer away and decides to call him over from company. Of course, because calling Spencer means calling Gerard means calling Mikey, Ray, Frank, and Bob...

  


 

Ryan's house is full when he wakes up Monday morning for work.

  


 

Spencer is lounged across the sofa. Ray is all lengthy limbs and hair on the Laz-E-boy. Mikey and Bob are curled into one another on the loveseat and Gerard and Frank are a bunch of limbs on the floor. Ryan only smiles a little.

  


 

Smiling hurts too much.

  


 

The kitchen lights are still burning from the night before and the counters are covered end to end with empty pizza boxes, chip bags, soda cans and empty beer bottles. Last night was the closest Ryan has felt to complete since Brendon disappeared.

  


 

He almost feels guilty for being happy. He also feels guilty for not visiting the hospital. But what's the use? Brendon is dead. Why add fuel to the non-fire?

  


 

Ryan doesn't get food before he leaves the house, he just grabs his keys, cell and wallet. He leaves a note telling Spence to keep his apartment in one piece before heading to Starbucks for a busy Monday.

  


 

It's eight in the morning and the apartment building is awake, everyone rushing to get to work or school. Ryan just about collides face first with a couple residents as he makes his way to the elevator.

  


 

He's pressing the button to shut the doors when he hears yelling, recognizes it as Bill and sticks his foot in the doors to stop them. Bill comes running, panting, hands on knees and babbling to Ryan about being late for something. Ryan just steps aside and let's him into the elevator.

  


 

“God...shit I'm almost late for work. Fuck!” Bill says through clipped breaths. Ryan nods in his general direction, in no mood to talk.

  


 

“So, did you see the new guy in the building? He's pretty hot.” Bill inquires and Ryan makes a vague noise, watching the descending light illuminate the numbers. _Floor 3_... _Floor 2_...

  


 

“He's a blonde though. Really tall. He sort of reminds of that Brendon kid that used to live in your apartment.” Bill muses as the elevator dings open but Ryan doesn't move. He's frozen to the spot.

  


 

Bill turns around, giving Ryan an impatient look. “You coming?”

  


 

“How?” Ryan manages, following Bill closely. Bill looks at him once.

  


 

“How what?”

  


 

“How does the new guy remind you of Brendon? What's his name? Which apartment-”

  


 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Little dude, relax. I'm just a pretty face. I can't keep up with all of your questions. Give me a sec, will ya?” William teases and pushes the doors open, letting Ryan step outside first.

  


 

“C'mon, Bill-”

  


 

“Alright, alright! The new guy is just all... _jittery_ and shit. Like he drank 12 Red Bulls. Always grinning. Talks really fast. Just like that Brendon kid. And his name is Jace, I think. Lives a few doors down from you. Blonde hair, brown eyes...”

  


 

Ryan stops listening after Bill tells him where the Jace guy lives. That's all he really wanted to know.

  


 

“William, I have to get going. Jon'll flip shit if I'm late. But it was great talking to you.” Ryan says, patting Bill on the arm before rushing to his shitty car. Bill waves to him, still giving him that weird look.

  


_The new guy is just all... jittery and shit...Always grinning. Talks really fast. Just like that Brendon kid._

  


Bill's word replay over and over again in Ryan's head on the way to the Bucks. They replay as he walks inside, clocks in, puts on his robe. When he makes the Blonde bitch, Stacey's, coffee consisting of more syrups than actual _coffee_ , he hears Bill's words. 

  


_Just like that Brendon kid._

  


 

Ryan knows it's too good to be true. Knows it's impossible. But he met Brendon once. As a ghost. He fell in love with him as a  _ghost._ That should have been impossible too.

  


 

Ryan is making his final coffee before his break, when the tiny bell tolls. He groans. He  _really_ isn't in the mood to make another coffee...

  


“Welcome to Starbucks, how can I help you this afternoon?” Ryan gives the tall blonde man the standard greeting. The tall blonde doesn't answer but stares at Ryan with big brown eyes. Big brown _familiar_ eyes. Ryan shakes his head. Because no. He can't fall apart now.

  


“I said, how can I help you this afternoon?” Ryan repeats, politeness be damned. The guy seems to snap out of whatever trance he had been in and smiles, big and wide, at Ryan. It's a staggering smile. Ryan has to catch his breath.

  


“I'll just...hmm. I don't really know what I want.” He muses, leaning haphazardly against the counter. He looks to Ryan. Ryan glares. “What's good here?”

  


Ryan wants to slap this douche in the face. “Coffee.” Ryan mutters, monotone developing. 

  


The guy smiles again, looking at Ryan like you look at your lost puppy when you find it. “I'll have that then please!” The guy exclaims. 

  


“Fine.” Ryan stomps away from the counter and begins making a cup of black coffee, no sugar. 

  


“So...you work here?” The asks. Ryan doesn't answer. “It seems like a nice job. I had a friend. That uhm...worked in a Starbucks, once. He didn't like his job either. I dunno why. I love people. But then again, Ry-Uhm...my friend wasn't really all that nice...I guess. To other people. Or me.”

  


Ryan ignores the guy's babbling, rummaging through a packing box for more cup caps. 

  


“We didn't talk much when I was around him. But he was _really_ pretty. He had the most amazing honey eyes. But I think he had a weak stomach because he fainted. Like a _lot_.”

  


Ryan is now back at the counter, staring at the blonde who happens to be twirling a strand of his hair around a finger. 

  


“Here. That'll be 2.90.” Says Ryan, hip cocked _oh_ - _so_ -impatiently. He knows that if Jon sees him behaving this way, he will be fired. Or at least put on a probation period. He straightens up nimbly.

  


The blonde man sips his coffee and makes a puckering face. “Ugh. That's bitter.” 

  


Ryan simply nods and waits for the 2.90 the guy owes. He doesn't get it. 

  


“What's your name?” 

  


Ryan eyes the man blankly because, what? Why is this guy even here? He comes in, has _no_ idea what he wants to order, talks to Ryan about things Ryan doesn’t _care_ about and now he's asking for Ryan's name. 

  


“George.” Ryan half lies. The guy raises an eye brow but says nothing. If anything he looks skeptical.

  


“Nice to meet you, _George_. I'm Bre-uh... Jace.”

  


Ryan blinks now. Jace. This must be the new guy Bill had been talking about. I mean, there aren't that many guys named Jace in Vegas. 

  


“Cool.” Ryan says to him, returning to staring absently at the counter. He wants to look at Jace though. Because Bill is right, he does act like Brendon. The set of his shoulders, the way he can't sit still. Those deep brown eyes.

  


 

_No._

  


 

“I think we live in the same apartment. I think I saw you this morning or something.” Jace says, sipping from the cup again, making that puckered face. Ryan almost wants to giggle. _Almost._

  


“Yeah. I suppose.”

  


“Mhm.” Jace grumbles, digging into the pocket of his khaki cargo pants. He puts a twenty on the counter and grabs Ryan's hand when he goes to make change.

  


 

“It's yours. A tips for great service.” He assures Ryan, giving him the biggest Brendon-like smile possible. Ryan almost jumps over the counter. _Almost._

  


“Uh...Thanks.” He manages to call out as the guy leaves. Jace looks over his shoulder and Ryan doesn't see blonde hair and a tall frame. He sees big brown eyes and that warm smile.

  


“No problem, Ryan.” And then Jace is gone.

  


Ryan stares after him. 

  


And if anyone asks... 

  


He totally _doesn't_ walk to the door and watch the man round the corner. 

  


He totally _doesn't_ slap himself to snap out of it. 

  


He totally _isn't_ looking forward to going back to the apartments to find Jace. 

  


He totally isn't. 


	5. Chapter 5

**BRENDON:**

  


When Brendon rounds the corner of the [Starbucks](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/4885.html), he has to press a hand to his chest to stop his heart from exploding. Ryan has no clue that it’s him. Which, Brendon thinks, sucks pretty fucking hard.

  


While speaking to Ryan, Brendon had tried to drop hints, be as him-esque as humanly possible. He almost _flailed_ at Ryan when he dared lie and say his name was _George._ It’s not. Brendon is nearly positive that it is not.

  


All he really needs to do is get Ryan to believe it’s _him_ in this new body. Because Maja never said anything about Ryan _guessing_. So, it’s okay if Ryan figures it out that way…right?

  


Brendon trudges down the street, mind wandering to useless places. Thinking of unavailing things. He wonders what Pete is doing. Wonders if he ever hooked up with Patrick. Brendon doubts this though. Patrick happens to be the most _virginal_ virgin Brendon knows. And Pete... well Pete is somewhat of a whore.

  


Brendon’s mind also wanders to Gabe, however much it hurts him to do so. Has Gabe visited him in the hospital to see if he is okay? Does Gabe even _care_? Probably not, Gabe has _no_ soul. May as well be a fucking snake.

  


Brendon isn’t watching where he’s going and runs into someone, stumbling back and nearly falling onto his nonexistent ass.

  


“Oh, shit, dude! Sorry. Fuck. Crap man, my bad. Here-“ The guy reacts by reaching out to brush Brendon off, despite Brendon not having fallen down. Brendon smiles and [looks](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/4885.html) up. He has to stop himself from screaming, “Joe!”

  


“Uh, it’s, no problem. Really.” Brendon says to his former friend, Joe Trohman. And Joe looks as bushy and high as ever. His [brown](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/4885.html) afro is sitting awkwardly on his head, eyes red from smoking up. It makes Brendon’s lips quirk at the corners.

  


Joe is scratching at the back of his neck, a habit Brendon recognizes as the man being uncomfortable.

  


“Right. Well. Again. Sorry.” He says with a short laugh and steps around Brendon carefully, heading in the opposite direction. Brendon sighs as he watches Joe’s retreating figure.

  


“Fucking great.” Murmurs Brendon bitterly, starting the long walk back to the apartments. Just fucking great. He had no idea how difficult it would be. To not have your best friends…the love of your life…know who you are.

  


At least when he was a ghost he was able to watch them.

  


Now if he’s caught staring it will seem creepy and he _really_ doesn’t need Pete or Ryan or Joe putting a restraining order on him. Especially Pete. Pete will have the cops on the scene in _literally_ two seconds.

  


There’s the distant sound of thunder and Brendon looks up to see storm clouds rolling in from the west. “Well, fuck me.” He grumbles because _really_? It’s Vegas. It rains once every four _years_ for Christ’s sake.

  


Picking up his pace, Brendon makes a dash for his street; refusing to be caught in the rain because he has a sneaking suspicion he will look like a ailing puppy with his new blond curls soaked to the root. Brendon has never been into blondes, male nor female. He supposes it’s because of Audrey. She dyed her hair a lot.

  


It begins to drizzle lightly and Brendon can’t even see the lights of Glenn Lakes, so he breaks into a run. He keeps asking himself why he didn’t take the car. But it just seemed like such a nice day.

  


_Seemed_ being the key word.

  


The rain begins to fall harder and Brendon curses, breaking into a sprint. No use trying to stay dry, it’s too late for that. So he focuses on getting back to the apartment before the lightening starts.

  


He’s maybe running for two or three minutes when a white sports car with blue tinted lights pulls along side him. He knows it’s Maja. I mean, _c’mon._ White car. Blue lights. Angel dressed in white. Blue eyes. It’s pretty fucking obvious.

  


“I forgive you for being a meanie, now get in. You’re human now, you can get sick.” Maja calls out to him from the drivers seat and Brendon goes to her without complaint.

  


The inside of the car has the saccharine smell of leather wafting through it's air conditioned interior. Brendon likes the way it feels to actually... _feel_. To _feel_ the air around him. _Feel_ the rain drops sending chills up and down his spine as cold air dries them. He missed feeling things. Even the painful things. At least then he knew he was alive.

  


“Any luck with Ryan?” Maja chirps in from beside Brendon, her tiny pale hands clasping the wheel lightly. Brendon gives her a sidelong glance.

  


“You already know what happened. You always do.” He retorts, the thickness of the air growing somehow thicker. Maja let's out a cloying laugh that reminds Brendon of nails on a chalk board. Or Freddy Kruger raking his razor-fingers along steel pipes.

  


“Oh, I suppose I do then. You did well with him today, all things considered. Just keep trying, honey. You'll win him over in no-”

  


“Why did you tell me what it meant?” Brendon cuts in, brain-to-mouth filter clogged with lost words and unanswered questions. He continues. “When my chest hurt. So bad I thought I was going to cave in on myself, why did you just _have_ to tell me it was because of Ryan? Because of Ryan loving me. If I didn't know he loved me, Maja, it would be so much _easier_ to let him go. You ruined me.”

  


Maja tries not to look at the tears in Brendon's deep chocolate eyes. Because, yes. Yes, she did ruin him. Though not intentionally. Never intentionally. She isn't a demon.

  


“Brendon, I-”

  


“Just take me home.” He says, barely audible, but Maja hears him and doesn't object. She punches on the gas, swerving in and out of the lazy 3 pm traffic.

  


Brendon doesn't care if they crash. Maybe he needs to die. If it'll make the pain go away.

  


  


**RYAN** :

  


Ryan is sitting at the empty bar of the Bucks waiting for Jon to lock up the registers. Spencer is texting him incessantly.

  


_Spence: guys & i ordered chinese. U should brng that jon guy_

  


Ryan half smiles at the text, Spencer has a thing for Jon, Ryan is more than fully aware. Every time Spence comes to pick Ryan up he gives Jon what he likes to call “The Look” and yeah, Ryan knows.

  


_Ryan: Y so u can get in his pnts? lol sure ill ask him_

  


Ryan tucks his cell into his pocket just as Jon exits the staff room, messenger bag thrown recklessly over his shoulder. Ryan knows that Jon walks home, seeing as he lives so close, so he goes in for the kill.

  


“Hey, Jon. You doing anything tonight?” He starts off simply. He doesn't want to bombard him with a: _Hey, do you want to come over so my best friend can sexually assault you in the comfort of my apartment while watching Jackass re-runs?_

  


Jon looks up with a crooked smile. “Uh, not really. I know, I'm a loser.” He smirks when he says this. Jon Walker smirks a lot. No wonder all the female employees and customers swoon at the sight of him. He's the perfect American stud. But Ryan prefers skinny guys with brown doe-eyes and...

  


No.

  


Let it go, Ryan.

  


“Great, um...I don't want to sound forward or anything but, a few of my friends are hanging at my apartment tonight. Some Chinese. Maybe some TV and Guitar Hero. You wanna join?” Ryan finds himself babbling and snaps his lips shut. Jon scratches the back of his neck contemplatively. 

  


“Your buddy with the blue eyes gonna be there?” He asks, a red blush creeping up his hairy cheeks. Ryan almost laughs.

  


“Yeah, Spencer is gonna be there. So you in?”

  


Jon nods frantically. “I'm so in.”

  


  


**BRENDON:**

  


Brendon doesn't say goodbye to Maja when he steps out of the white sports car. He doesn't feel the need to since she'll be watching his every fucking move. If he jerks off, she _sees_. If he curses, she _hears_. If he runs over a damned _squirrel_ , she's there with animal control. Well...okay maybe not that _last_ one but Brendon wouldn't put it past her. 

  


The rain has stopped considerably as Brendon enters the apartment building, shaking the excess water from his golden locks. It's then that he feels a buzzing in his pocket. He pulls out his cell to see a text from Bill. He hardly knows Bill, just knows he hated him _before_ he changed and hates him _now_ , but it would've been suspicious if he'd have turned down Bill's flirting in his new body. So he accepted Bill's number in exchange for his own.

  


Bad decision.

  


_Bill: Yo! Jace baby ;) how do u feel about hanging out w/ a couple frnds 2nite?_

  


Brendon texts back swiftly as he enters the elevator. _What kind of friends?_

  


_Bill: my good friend in 313 ry-ry. Hes a cool dude. So u gnna come with?_

  


Brendon feels his heart jump out of his chest, do a back-hand-spring and plow right back into him. He has to take a deep breath as he exits onto his floor. 

  


_Yea. What time?_

  


_Bill: 6ish. I'll come get ya, baby_

  


Brendon grimaces at Bill calling him “Baby” but doesn't say anything. He needs Bill tonight. He needs to see Ryan and Bill is the only way.

  


He texts back as he enters his apartment: _seeya then xxx_

  


  


**RYAN** :

  


Spencer is sitting in the recliner stuffing his face with Doritos when Ryan enters, Jon on his flanks. 

  


“Ry, for fucks sake you took...Oh...” Spencer's mouth snaps shut and his eyes go wide at the site of Jon entering the living room fully. Gerard looks up from his sketch pad to wave at the new visitor and Mikey very obviously checks Jon out. Bob glares at Mikey.

  


“Uhm, Jon these are my friends Ray, Frank, Gerard, Mikey and Bob.” Ryan points to the guys consecutively. Jon waves politely. “And the piggy in the chair there is Spencer.”

  


Spencer pokes his pink tongue out and blushes when Jon winks and walks over to him. Ryan watches as the two ogle each other. He turns away, feeling as if he's intruding upon something special and private.

  


It sort makes him feel a little lonely. 

  


_Sort of._

  


By way of diversion, he shuffles into the kitchen picking up the house phone to order the Chinese and do the remainder of last night's dishes. 

  


He's about midway through drying the plates when there's a knock at the door. He assumes it's the Chinese guy and grabs the twenty from the table. The same twenty the blond guy, Jace, gave him.

  


He pulls the door open, already thanking the delivery guy. “Wow, you came fast-”

  


He looks up and sees that it's Bill. He can't stop himself when he murmurs. “You're not Chinese.”

  


Bill grins, “I'm not.” he says, loping inside past Ryan like he owns the place. Ryan starts to close the door but then there's Jace. Standing there in a lavender hoodie and skin-tight jeans. He has his hood up, covering his blond hair and with just his brown eyes sparkling there, Ryan immediately thinks, _Brendon?_

  


“Hi. Uh, William invited me. If it's fine with you.” Jace is shifting from foot to foot. Like Brendon. And it's almost sickening to watch knowing that it's not Brendon and Brendon isn't coming back. Ever.

  


Ryan makes space for Jace to enter, not saying anything. Not that he could. Not that he _wants_ to.

  


Instead he steps out into the hall and shuts the door, the silence of the empty coordinator like a euthanizer to his speeding heart. 

  


Brown eyes that sparkle, a smile that can stop a heart. Enough pent up energy to power Vegas for years and years. It _has_ to be. 

  


Except it isn't.

  


Ryan slides down the door, clutching his knees to his chest, biting his bottom lip absently.

  


It isn't him. It's coincidence. It's impossible for it to be Brendon because it's against the rules of _life_. It's not plausible. Science says...Science says men came from monkeys. Ryan supposes that science is total _bullshit_ sometimes. 

  


But _this_ time. It has to be right. Right?

  


Ryan hears the door knob twisting behind him and slides over so that he's against the wall instead. He looks up to see Gerard smiling down at him.

  


“You alright, Ry-man?” He asks, sitting down next to Ryan, crossing his legs Indian-style.

  


Ryan nods a little. Doesn't want to talk though. Not even to _Gee._ And Gerard _always_ knows how to cheer someone up.

  


“You know, that guy...Jason I think, he seems really nice. He was asking me about you. Actually, he was asking _everyone_ about you. He seems really interested.” Gerard says, twisting the laces of his Converse absently. Ryan is breathing shallowly, the knowledge of Jace wanting to know about him over-powering his system.

  


“Yeah?” He asks, barely a whisper and Gee nods frantically. 

  


“Hell yeah. _Is he dating anyone? Is he gay? Is he into me? When's his birthday? Does he like pandas?_ I swear if the guy wasn't so outgoing and damn hot, I'd be freaked out.” Gerard says with a chuckle. He turns to Ryan, a serious look spreading across his normally chipper features. “Ryan, you know I love you. But you've been single since Keltie. It's been three years and those one-night stands aren't enough. You need a relationship. And, excuse me for being intrusive but, the Jason kid seems like your type. You should go hop on that band wagon. Life's too short, kid.”

  


Gerard is up again and inside before Ryan has the chance to respond. To really weigh Gerard's little speech. But three words are itching in Ryan's mind as the Chinese guy walks up. 

  


As he pays for the food.

  


As he goes back inside.

  


As he walks over to Jace and says, “I heard you were asking about me.”

  


As he smirks at Jace and Jace blushes, three words go through Ryan's mind:

  


_Life's too short._

  


And how short it is.


	6. Chapter 6

**BRENDON:**

 

Brendon finds himself laughing hysterically, arm slouched across the back of Ryan's sofa, Ryan under his wing. The _party-_ if you could even call it that- had long ago ended and most everyone had returned to their respective apartments and rooms. Brendon and Ryan or rather, Drunk and Drunker, were left to their own devices nearly two hours prior.

 

Ryan's eyes are squinted as he clutches his stomach, laughing so hard that only tiny squeaks come out. Brendon takes a deep breath and wills himself calm. _Patience, Brendon._ He has to remember that he has two weeks. No need to rush, right?

 

“Jace-” **hiccup** “-is it true-” **giggle** “-that _everything_ tastes better with-” s **nort** “-cool whip?” Ryan mimics Stewie Griffin for the umpteenth time, yet Brendon still finds himself in hysterics. He's never seen Ryan so [free](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/6505.html) and blissful. It's actually beauteous in a way Brendon can not begin to explain.

 

“No, does it, Ry?” Brendon humors the drunk boy that's now clinging to him.

 

Ryan's eyes are half lidded as he nods with reverence. “Mhmmmmmmm. Do  _ you _ taste better with cool whip, Jace?”

 

Now Brendon is uncomfortable. Ryan has made his way to a half straddle position, his long fingers tracing up and down Brendon's tight chest.

 

“Uh, Ry. I-We can't.” Brendon stammers out, lifting the petite, clearly horny, Ryan from his lap and setting him on the furthest cushion on the sofa. Ryan [looks](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/6505.html) at Brendon under thick lashes.

 

“Why not? You don't think I'm sexy, Jace?” And dammit, Ryan Ross.

 

“No! I mean, yeah! Of course I think you're sexy. _Very_ sexy. But we can't fool around. Sorry.” Brendon quickly stands, pulling his tee down where Ryan had stealthily slid it up his [belly](http://cobrapandemic.livejournal.com/6505.html). Ryan pouts and stands too, crossing the small space to stand inches from Brendon's stiff figure.

 

“Who said we'd be fooling around? I don't play games, Jace. I want you to fuck me.” Ryan whispers into Brendon's ear, breath hot and sticky. The smell of weed, vodka, pizza and gum waft into Brendon's nostrils causing him to lean in.

 

Brendon's lips are inches from Ryan's and all former reasons for not doing this have been forgotten.

 

Ryan closes the distance, crashing his lips to Brendon's. His mouth is overly moist from drinking so much and he's all squirmy. And the kiss is heated and perfect and amazing.

 

Until Ryan moans.

 

“Please, Brendon.”

 

Ryan ends up missing Brendon's lips the second time by a great girth as Brendon jerks away. “What did you call me?” Brendon asks, carefully disguising his excitement.  _ Come on Ryan. Remember me? _

 

Ryan looks at Brendon as if he's lost his mind. “I called you Jace.”

 

“No, you called me Brendon.” Brendon corrects slowly. Because, God, let him remember.

 

Ryan is silent. He seems a little more sober than he'd been twenty seconds ago as he walks toward the front door. Brendon is frozen in the middle of the floor because, yes. Yes, Ryan  _ had _ called him Brendon!

 

“I have work tomorrow. So I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Jace.” Ryan deadpans, opening the front door wide and stepping aside to allow Brendon a wide girth to get out. Brendon feels sick to his stomach and wants to cry but decides to be a pussy on his own time. He advances towards the open doorway, giving Ryan a longing glance.

 

“Night, Ryan.” Brendon says, hoping for a smile, hoping for anything that would suggest Ryan isn't pissed at him. Ryan just nods once and shuts the door in Bren's face.

 

“Great. Fucking fantastically great.” Brendon curses and kicks the wall by Ryan's door. It's no use. No fucking use. And now his fucking foot hurts.

 

He is about to contemplate walking into oncoming traffic when a tiny thing skitters across his foot. Brendon jumps backwards, looking down to see a little white mouse with beady blue eyes. He grimaces as he steps over it and stomps down the hall to his apartment.

 

“Go away, Maja.” He seethes when he feels a sudden current of wind and the presence of someone following him.

 

“ _Brenny_ , you can't just give up. You have 12 days!” Maja sings happily, skipping ahead of Brendon. Brendon ducks as not to be taken out by her thick wings. He reaches hurriedly into his back pocket for his house keys

 

“Contrary to popular belief, I'm damn good at giving up and that's exactly what I'm about to do. Thank you and good night.” Brendon gives an animated bow before entering his house and shutting Maja out. The similarity of this action to the one that had just occurred between him and Ryan is much too close. Brendon almost feels bad and opens the door for Maja.

 

Key word being  _ almost _ .

 

With a tired sigh Brendon heaves himself to his bedroom, ignoring the fact that he had not showered, and strips down to flannel boxers and a Mayday Parade tee.

 

“Well, shit.” He grumbles when he realizes how his clothes just don't fit properly anymore. Too tight around the chest. Too loose in the crotch area.

 

He reaches up to pull off his glasses and feels a spurt of nostalgia when he realizes he no longer needs to wear them. Because _Jace_ has perfect vision.

 

The apartment is mostly dark so he has to feel his way around to get to his bed. That's the one thing he actually likes about his current situation. The comfy bed. At least the screw up angel did something right.

 

Brendon grabs a pillow from the other side of the bed and holds it against his chest, curling around it and shutting his eyes. Maybe when he wakes up he'll be himself again. Better yet, he'll be alive and well and he'll have Ryan and they can live happily ever after.

 

But again, he realizes. This isn't a fairy tale. This is his life.

 

He only cries a little as he falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

 **RYAN:**

 

Ryan can _hear_ his alarm clock blaring but he refuses to acknowledge it. Starbucks doesn't need him today. Jon can handle it all by himself.

 

Jon can handle it.

 

 _Jon._ Can...

 

Ryan reaches over and side swipes the contents of his nightstand to the floor, groaning as he sits up. No. Jon can _not_ handle an entire coffee shop on his own. Because he's _Jon._

 

He'll probably be high the whole day and try to sell the costumers complimentary Walker brownies.

 

Fucking Jon.

 

Ryan gets up and stretches, mumbling to himself- as is obligatory in the mornings- and heading for the shower.

 

In his morning haze, Ryan doesn't knock on the door (and since when does he have to knock on his own bathroom door? The fuck?) and walks in on a very naked, very _wet_ Gerard Way.

 

“Fucking hell, Gerard! What the _fuck_ are you doing here?! Where is Frank? Why aren’t you at home with Frank??!” Ryan shouts, shutting his eyes tightly and waving an arm blindly.

 

Gerard stares at him then continues to dry himself off. “Spence said I could crash here. Hope you don't mind. And Frank and I had a little argument. By the way, um, I think one of your vases is broken.”

 

Ryan frowns. Of course he flipping minds! And his 300 dollar vases...

 

“Spencer said...Spencer doesn’t even live here, Gerard!” Ryan flails his free arm. The other is placed over his sensitive, innocent eyes. “Besides, where is Spencer? Huh? And are you... decent?”

 

Gerard chuckles, wrapping one of Ryan's fluffy towels around his body. Not around his waist like a normal man, but around his _entire body_ , like a _woman._ He also has a smaller towel wrapped around his head in a beehive/turban fashion.

 

“Oh, Spence went home with that Jon guy” Gerard picks up one of Ryan's razors and shaving cream. “And yeah, I'm...uh, _decent_ , was it?”

 

Ryan spares a look through cracked fingers only to see Gerard using his razor. What the actual fuck?

 

“Ugh!” Ryan slams the bathroom door and grabs his car keys on the way out. Fucking Gerard fucking Way and his fucking...ways!

 

The hallway of the apartment building is humid and still dark as Ryan clambers to the elevator, still dressed in clothes form last night. He feels like shit. Probably smells like it as well. His life is just sucking right now.

 

Ryan makes it to the elevator and presses the down button. The light lingers on the lobby for about a minute before counting down to three. When it opens, Ryan gets on, pulling out his cell phone and texting Jon.

 

 _Gonna be a bit late k?_

 

Ryan presses the button for the lobby and begins to shut his eyes when an urgent yelling comes from the other end of the hall.

 

“Hey! Wait, hold the elevator! Hey! Wait...Fuck!” Ryan snaps his eyes open and cranes his head out of the doors to see a blonde headed guy picking himself up from the floor where he had obviously fallen. The guy wore a tight red tee, even tighter black jeans and bright green sneakers. Ryan's mind sparked at the sight and he instantly thought, _Bren?_

 

“Crap. Oh thank god, hey thanks for...oh.” The guy stops when he sees Ryan standing in the elevator looking completely annoyed.

 

“Great, it's you.” Ryan murmurs as the elevator doors close and Jace leans haphazardly against the opposite wall.

 

“What is that supposed to mean? Is there something wrong with me all of the sudden Ryan Ross?” Jace asks, touching his heart and looking like the kicked puppy that he is. Ryan rolls his eyes and averts his gaze to the dead cockroach in the corner.

 

“Don't call me that.” Ryan spits, crossing his arms and okay. Maybe he's being a tad bitchy but he kind has no fucking clue if he'll ever see Brendon again, and he doesn't need this constant, obnoxiously annoying reminder living on the same floor as him.

 

Standing in the same fucking elevator as him and when does it take five hours to get from the third floor to the lobby?

 

Jace makes to look amused but only manages to laugh in Ryan's face. “So what do I call you? Asshole? Bitch? Doucheknozzle? Gosh you're so dense, you know that?”

 

Ryan's mouth falls open at about the same moment as the elevator doors open and Jace steps out.

 

“I am _not_ a doucheknozzle, you...you, fuck you!”

 

Jace pulls a face but smiles nonetheless. “So you admit that you are a dense, bitchy asshole? Glad we have an understanding, Ross.” Jace is smirking and his brown eyes are twinkling and okay, there it is again. He just looked exactly like Brendon just now! Ryan flails somewhat internally.

 

“I...” Ryan looks at his phone. 7:57. He's almost thirty minutes late. “I have to go to work.”

 

Ryan makes his way to the door of the apartment building, risking a glance over his shoulder at Jace only to see a blonde woman dressed in all white with her arms around him.

 

Ryan can't help but notice how his heart twists at the sight.

 

* * *

 

 **BRENDON:**

 

Brendon curses himself as Ryan walks out of the apartment. Great, he scared him away.

 

“That you did, Brendon.”

 

“Go away Maja!” Brendon groans into his hands, stomping his feet like a spoiled child.

 

Maja croons at him, placing her thin arms around his shoulder. “Aw, don't be down on yourself, sweetie. It'll be alright. You still have... 12 days. And I think he's already falling for you.”

 

Brendon says something intelligible then lifts his head. “He kicked me out of his apartment last night. After making out with me and asking me if I thought he was sexy... Was a complete _asshat_ to me in the elevator...yeah, he's so falling for me. And Bill Clinton did not have sexual relations with that woman. Blow me.”

 

He pulls away from Maja, stomping off in the direction of the exit.

 

Maja is there when he steps into the morning sun and he continues to walk past her. Yet and still she's around every corner he turns. Fucking curse her and her stupid angel prowess.

 

“Brendon.” She says at one corner. He keeps walking, not entirely sure where he's heading but he knows he needs to get the fuck away from her.

 

“You need to talk to me.” She says at the next corner. Brendon flicks her off.

 

“I didn't appreciate that in the least! Now you better listen to me, young man and-”

 

Brendon stops because he's standing on the steps of the hospital his family normally goes to. It's expensive and completely not worth the money, but only the best for the rich Mormon people, right?

 

Brendon feels Maja next to him. Well, to be more specific, he feels her wing bat him upside the head when she appears at his side out of thin air.

 

“Is this where...um?”

 

Maja just nods and Brendon takes a step toward the glass doors.

 

“Brendon, you don't want to go in there. It's not-”

 

“What? It's not what, huh? What kind of angel are you anyway? You're supposed to help me, not...not turn me into this totally different person and make the only thing in the world that meant anything to me hate my guts. Fuck you, Maja. I'll do whatever the hell I want to do.”

 

He hears Maja breathe out a sigh. “Brendon...” But then she's gone and he's standing on the steps of the hospital alone.

 

Inside of the hospital is just like Brendon remembers it when his mom had given birth to his two younger sisters and the time he broke his arm. Or the time his bust his lip. Or the time he was hit by that ice cream truck. Yeah, Brendon is kind of a spaz.

 

There aren't many people inside. A couple of senior citizens and a kid with a bloody nose. Nothing too exciting.

 

Brendon makes his way over to the receptionist. She looks bored out of her skull and seems to be chewing on cow cud. Oh no wait...that's just gum.

 

“What do you want?” She huffs out, flipping incessantly through what looks like PopEater magazine. Brendon rolls his eyes and holds back the urge to pull her stupid blonde hair.

 

“I'm here to see Brendon Boyd Urie.” He says, hand on his hip. This chick is really urking his last nerve. She looks up at him and her demeanor changes. She begins to basically undress him with her ugly blue eyes.

 

“Um, Um...how are you related to the patient?” She stutters out and Brendon smirks. He personally doesn't find his new body at all attractive. Maybe because he has developed a type. The tall, brown haired, honey eyed type. But he may as well use his body to the fullest.

 

Gosh, he sounds like a hooker.

 

Brendon leans across the counter, getting his face mere inches from the receptionist's. She smells like whore and fear. “I'm just a good friend of his, is all. You can let me in right, beautiful?” He winks at her and she just about passes out. Brendon gags mentally because, ew. Vaginas!

 

“Of...of course, um...let me just...” She scrounges around in a couple of drawers and comes up with a visitors pass.

 

“He's in room 510. Um, just um..write your name on the visitor sheet, please.”

 

Brendon smiles at her. Well, more like smirks seductively, and Brendon knows seduction, okay? He freaking _knows_. “Of course, sweetheart.” He says, signing ~~_Br_~~ _Jace_.

 

“Thanks, love.” Brendon calls over his shoulder. Then, “By the way, I'm gay.”

 

The look on the dumb bitch's face is something that will never fail to crack Brendon up in the future. If there is a future for him.

 

It takes him all of twenty minutes to find room 510. The first try he found himself in the pediatric ward, cooing at little babies until a nurse kicked him out. The second time he found himself in the E.R. watching someone get their appendix removed.

 

Finally, after some trial and error, he made it to room 510 in the Intensive Care Unit.

 

The door is open and there is no one else in the hall, so Brendon goes right in.

 

The hospital room smells like antiseptic and bleach and the walls are too white and the linoleum floors are too shiny and Brendon just about rips his hair out when he sees himself on the bed.

 

“Shit...” He says. “Holy fucking shit...”

 

Brendon takes a slow step toward his own body. He doesn't look physically hurt but the tubes in his nose, crooks of his arms, snaking down his throat, tell a different story.

 

“Oh, oh my god.” He is standing over his body now, looking at where the skin on his neck is dried and dead from the heroin needles. Brendon's stomach twists and he has to turn away from the sight.

 

He'll fucking kill Gabe. He will fucking murder that perverted piece piece of-

 

“Excuse me, but what are you doing in my son's room?” A tiny female voice makes Brendon turn around. His eyes connect with eyes that are the same brown as his own.

 

“Mo-Ma'am. Um, B-Brendon was a friend of mine, actually. I...” Brendon trails off because he knows what his mom looks like when she's about to blow a gasket.

 

“Well, visiting hours are over for friends. Only family members now. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.” She deadpans, and Brendon wants to cry or hug her or something. Anything but leave.

 

He shuffles on his feet and looks at her from under his lashes and for a fleeting moment he saw recognition in her eyes. Then she looked completely baffled.

 

“P-please leave.” She says, voice shaky and eyes averted.

 

“Um, look, Mrs. Urie. What's going on with Brendon? I...” Brendon tries to think of a credible lie. “I phoned Pete but he seemed too torn up to give me much insight. I drove eight hours. I'd really like to know if he's going to be alright.”

 

Mrs. Urie frowns but nods. “Peter isn't taking things well at all. Which says a lot for Peter. He generally has too _much_ energy. I guess that's why he and my baby were such good friends.” She says and Brendon catches the 'were' part.

 

“Brendon isn't doing well. The heroin has tainted his blood stream and nothing the doctors have given him has helped any. One detox counteracts with the other and it's all just getting worse. Right now, he's on life support. We were...we were going to pull the plug last Wednesday but...something told me that he could make it back to us. My baby is a strong boy. And no matter how many bad choices he's made, I love him. His father and brothers and sisters love him and...I just know he'll make it home to us...”

 

Brendon sees the tears streaming down his mother's face and he wants to go to her and hug her and cry with her but he can't. It's breaking his fucking heart seeing her like this.

 

“H-How long before you...you know?”

 

Mrs. Urie sighs, dabbing at her pretty eyes with a napkin. “Two weeks. Maybe less. The longer we keep him on life support the higher the chances of side effects. Memory loss. Brain damage. Speech aversion. God, I couldn't handle having him lose his ability to talk. My Brendon loves to talk. Loves to sing. We can't wait too much longer, I suppose.”

 

The air in the room is heavy and mournful and Brendon is choking. He makes a vague motion of goodbye before stepping out of the hospital room and shutting the door.

 

“God...” Brendon begins, then stops, leaning against the cold wall and sliding to the linoleum. This has to work. It has to work. If it doesn't then...

 

“God. That's my mommy in there. And I'm sorry for being such a stupid kid and not listening to her and not going to church or going on the mission after high school and for being gay and smoking pot and having sex. I'm sorry, okay? I just want to live again. I want my mom to be happy. And my dad and my sisters and brothers and Pete and Bill and...and Ryan. Especially Ryan. I love Ryan. Like, a lot. And... I promise, God, I'll do whatever it is you want me to do. Just...please help make this easier for me. Please help me get back home.”

 

“Your prayers have been answered my child.” Says a voice. A manly voice but not nearly as manly as what Brendon would assume God would sound like. He opens his eyes to find a guy, about his height, maybe a little shorter. The guy has shaggy, long brown hair and dark brown eyes. He's wearing a pure white hoodie and white jeans.

 

“Who're you?” Brendon asks, wiping the embarrassing tear trails from his flushed cheeks. The dude smiles.

 

“Name's Alex. Alex Gaskarth. Guardian angel etc, etc. You're Brendon Boyd Urie, Born April 12, 1987 are we done, dude?” The guy, Alex presses. And damn, what is with these angels and their impatience?!

 

“Where's Maja?”

 

Alex blinks. “Oh, the blonde? She was just an intern. Yeah, the Big Guy took her off the job, you know. Sucks and all. I remember when I was an intern. Back in '92 and-”

 

“Hey! What do you want, man?” Brendon asks, agitated and just about ready to give the fuck up. Alex again blinks. He seems to do that a lot. Like a confused puppy or something. Then his eyes brighten and he grins.

 

“Oh! Right. Well I'm your permanent GA from here on out unless you've got some kind of issue with that in which case you can take that up with Heaven Support. Or I mean, like Jack is free but he pretty much fucks every person he helps out so. I would stick with me if I were you, you know-”

 

“Dude!” Brendon throws his hands in the air and Alex frowns.

 

“Right, right. Sorry. Anyway, like I was saying. Maja sucks at life and I'm here to help you out.”

 

Brendon eyes the guy suspiciously. “Help me, how? You gonna make me myself again?”

 

Alex shrugs. “Well, no. Not exactly. I can't get you out of your little deal with Maja. But I can take some of the binding off of it.”

 

Brendon groans. “What fucking deal, man?”

 

“Language, dude. Language.” Alex says. And Brendon wants to remind him that he had just said fuck not two minutes ago. “And you know. The two week deal. Get Bryan to fall in love with you in this new body. Which I think is total fuckery, because c'mon. No one can get anyone to fall in love with them in fourteen days. Well, eleven for you, right? Unless the person is like...fucking Chuck Norris or-”

 

“Alex...the point. Find it.” Brendon warns, standing up and staring at the angel.

 

“Kay. Well, if you want dude, you can tell Bryan-”

 

“Ryan.” Brendon corrects grimly.

 

“- _Ryan_ that you're you. I mean, he probably wont believe you but, whatever right? It's worth a shot. But here's the catch, guy.”

 

And Brendon was dreading this part. There is always a catch with these fucking angels.

 

“If Ryan tells you to leave again. As in, 'Hey, man, fuck off' and he really means it. You're screwed. Deal is void and you're dead. You come back with me and I'll assign you to be a GA to some lost soul or something. Or you can work in the mail room. Your choice.” Alex says, then scratches his chin.

 

“That's it? If he doesn't believe me and tells me to leave him alone, I get no second chances?” Brendon asks, eyes stinging. Alex shrugs and blinks.

 

“Best I can do, really. So, like..break a leg or something, dude. I gotta roll.” And Alex is gone just that quickly.

 

“Well, shit...” Brendon murmurs.

 

He needs to find Ryan.

 

* * *

 

 **RYAN:**

 

Ryan sits on the counter during his break, drinking a latte and munching on one of Jon's special brownies. Jon is over in a booth talking on the phone like a school girl. With Spencer. The fuck, right?

 

Ryan jumps and almost falls when Jon lets out an obnoxiously loud laugh. “Oh, SPENCER! You crack me up!” He shoots Ryan a smug look and Ryan flips him off fondly. Little shit.

 

He hops down eventually, walking back to the other side of the counter just as a customer enters. Ryan doesn't look up from his cell where he is playing Angry Birds. Fuck you, he's still on break.

 

“Excuse me-”

 

“No.” Ryan deadpans, not looking up.

 

“No?”

 

“No.” Ryan says again. He's on break. He isn't fixing anyone anything, damn it!

 

There's a silence only filled by Jon's laughter and the sound of little pigs falling from block towers. It's quite peaceful, Ryan thinks.

 

“Ryan.” The voice whines, sounding sad and heartfelt and Ryan thinks, _Brendon?_

 

He looks up into dark brown eyes and for a moment, it is Brendon. It isn't anyone else. It is _Brendon._ And for a moment there's something that is communicated between the two of them.

 

 _'It's me, Ry. It's me.'_

 

“Jace?” Ryan's mouth says but for fucks sake his mind is screaming, _Brendon!_

 

Jace shuffles from one foot to the other. “Yeah. Yeah. Um, I came to ask you something. Actually...” He scratches his neck and looks Ryan in the eyes, determination apparent. “I came to tell you something.”

 

Ryan doesn't know if he's breathing at all but the fact that he hasn't fainted yet is a good sign that he's breathing fine. Jace continues to talk when Ryan doesn't answer.

 

“Tonight. At seven. I'm picking you up from your place and I'm taking you to the carnival. And you're going to come with me and you're not going to be an asshat and say no. Okay?” Jace's voice is forceful but his eyes are hopeful and kind of adorable and Ryan nods.

 

“Really?” Jace asks, eyes bugging out of his head and Ryan smiles. Just a little.

 

“Yeah. At seven.” Ryan says, his mind not yet catching up with his mouth.

 

Jace grins that big grin that makes Ryan's heart hurt. Makes him feel like it is Brendon he's talking to.

 

“Okay...” Jace says then leans over the counter, placing a very short and chaste kiss on Ryan's cheek. “See you at seven, then.”

 

And then he's leaving. Out the door and down the sidewalk. And Ryan. Well Ryan is grinning.

 

And Jon is snickering and looking at him.

 

“Shut the fuck up, Walker.” Ryan says, but he is still smiling.

 

God...

 

What is he going to wear?


	7. Chapter 7

**BRENDON:**

  
Brendon rummages gracelessly through his closet, cursing Maja for giving him this barbaric body. None of Brendon's clothes even fit anymore, it's fucking ridiculous. The closet is about the size of his body anyway so Brendon doubts he can dig any deeper into it without getting lodged inside.

  
“Red or black?” Brendon hears the _crackle-pop_ of Alex materializing in the room but he continues to search for something suitable to wear on his date. His date as a living, breathing human being. With Ryan. Brendon's heart can't even handle it.

 

“Red, or...black?” Alex asks again, ticking his tongue and making unnecessary hand gestures that Brendon can see out of the corner of his otherwise non-caring eyes.

 

“Hm?” Brendon tries to sound interested. He really doesn't give a shit about Alex or Maja or any of those useless guardian angel impersonators only their not impersonators because they have _wings_ so that just makes them legit, _shitty_ guardian angels...or something like that, Brendon isn't using his brain right now.

  
“I see you can't find anything to wear, so I stole...er...bought you these. So, red or black, dude? Or if you want I can go back and get you like, hot pink or something. This is Dior but I'm vaguely certain that they have Ralph Lauren or Prada or-”

  
“Alex!” Brendon shouts, “Just...give me the red outfit, please.” _And shut the fuck up for once, Christ._

  
Alex scratches his neck but tosses Brendon the red outfit. The black one disappears in a puff of white smoke. Brendon holds the red button-up against his body then the black jeans. Not bad.

 

“Oh!” Alex spins in a circle and Brendon thinks he's about to try and make himself dizzy, (because Alex just seems like that brand of crazy) but instead he vanishes only to reappear with a shoe box. 

 

“These will go perfect. Now don't say I never did shit for you, dude. I fucking do shit. I hate when people are all like, 'Fucking Gaskarth never does anything' and I'm just like, 'The fuck, I do plenty.' It's total BS if you ask me-”

 

“I didn't.” Brendon deadpans and Alex looks stumped. “Ask you.” Brendon explains. “I never ask you. You just never shut up. But thanks for the shoes.”

 

Alex pulls the saddest excuse for a pout that Brendon has ever seen (and Brendon is Brendon, okay? He knows a good fucking pout.) before vanishing with an animated wail of, “Nobody loves me!”

  
Once the angel is gone and Brendon checks every additional room in the apartment for him, Brendon goes over to his stereo and docks his iPod. He indulged a bit in the Apple Store. Why have all this money and this new body and no bills to pay and not buy something fancy?

 

“Spice Girls...Backstreet Boys...Spice...Street? Scary Spice...Nick Carter?” Brendon picks the Spice Girls because who the hell would want to listen to the Backstreet Boys before a hot date?

  
“ _I've given you everything! All that love can bring, this I swear! And all that I want from you is to promise you'll always be there!!”_

  
The boy dances around the apartment and really, it's something like a bad coming-of-age film but Brendon doesn't care. He's totally going on this date with Ryan and it's totally gonna be sweet and he'll get laid and Ryan will believe him when Brendon tells him the truth.

  
The Spice Girls is just a good omen.

* * *

  
**RYAN:**

 

“Ryan that is the ugliest thing I've ever seen on a human in my 21 years of life. Please remove it from my sight before I vomit.” Spencer is lounging lazily across Ryan's queen size texting Jon and insulting Ryan's taste in fashion. Spencer is a bitch.

 

  
“Really, all of those girls in high school telling you that you were a “flawless bitch” were lying. You're a terrible person, Spencer Smith.” Ryan affirms, throwing the ugly paisley scarf back into the closet and picking up a solid purple one. “Ew.” He says and throws it down as well.

 

“I am _so_ a flawless bitch.” Spencer says almost as if he actually believes it. Almost like a six year old girl declaring herself princess of ponyland. Spencer _is_ a six year old girl in ponyland.

  
“Yeah, you're a bitch. Not so sure about the flawless bit though.” Ryan shoots back, turning sideways in the mirror to get a good look at the outfit. Simple blue jeans, not too tight, not too loose. Green t-shirt that manages to actually look casual and dressy at the same time. “What do you think?” He finally turns to his best friend.

  
Spencer chews on his thumb pensively. “No boots and we have a deal.”

  
“What?! No! I'm not agreeing to that. I don't _own_ any other kind of shoe, dammit!” Ryan has his hip cocked a mile wide as if to assert his dominance over the younger boy. Spencer just shrugs.

  
“Flip flops.”

  
“You hate flip flops, Spencer.”

  
“Jon wears them. They're okay.”

  
Ryan's eyes narrow. “You only approve of flip flops now because you want Walker's dick. You suck.” Ryan stomps over to his closet and grabs his favorite tan boots anyway. Spencer looks smug when Ryan turns back around.

  
“Why want what I've already had?” Spencer muses as he stands up and heads for the door. “And you're right, I do suck. Jon's dick.” The boy has the dirtiest smirk on as someone knocks at Ryan's front door. Spencer pulls it open and there he is. Jace.

  
“Hey, Jace.” Spencer greets, huge smile on his smug face. “What is your opinion on flip flops?”

  
Jace looks taken aback and Ryan face-palms at his best friend's ignorance. “Um, they're alright I guess...why?”

  
Spencer giggles. He fucking _giggles._ “No reason. You two have fun now. And Ryan-” Spencer looks over his shoulder. “-don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

  
Ryan can feel the heat rushing into his face and is ever so grateful that Jace is distracted by his cell phone.

  
“So, I'm ready, if you're ready.” Ryan blurts and feels like a total loser for rushing Jace. Jace just looks up from his Blackberry, chocolate eyes warm and endearing.

  
“Yeah, your carriage awaits m'lady.” He swings an arm out in a chivalrous gesture and Ryan is only slightly insulted at being called a _lady._

  
The two boys walk down the hall of the apartment complex, shoulders brushing every-so-often. Neither of them says a word until they've made it to the lobby. Jace speaks first.

“Urm...you know how to ride a bike, right?” He asks Ryan, blond locks obstructing his brown eyes. Ryan kind of wants to reach out and move the hair away because he really loves Jace's eyes.

  
“Yeah, why? We going bike riding instead?” Ryan is kind of confused but he refuses to let that disrupt the cool facade he's got going. Either way, Jace shakes his head.

  
“Not exactly. C'mon.” Jace grabs Ryan's hand and there maybe is some kind of cliché spark of electricity or something because Ryan's heart kind of stutters in his chest.

  
There's something about the way Jace is pulling Ryan along. It's almost child-like. A grown man acting like an anxious child. Ryan has never seen anything like it. Well, he has but he is pretty sure that Brendon had some kind of ADHD thing going. And there he goes again, thinking of Brendon. _God, knock it off, Ross. He wasn't even real. Ghosts are not real._

  
They come to a stop at the parking lot and Ryan gasps. “Jace, that's...”

  
Jace's eyes are wide and excited and so...never mind. “What? It's what?” Jace pushes, shaking Ryan lightly.

  
“That's...kind of corny? I dunno. I mean it's cool but...” Ryan trails off when he sees the pout on Jace's big pink lips and _shit_. What has he _done_? He's just killed about eight puppies, that's what.

  
“No, I get it. We can just take a car-”

  
“No! No, Jace, this is really, um...it's really sweet.” Ryan gives the taller yet seemingly younger man a soft smile before tugging him toward the tandem bike. “C'mon. Front or back?”

  
Jace grins, releasing Ryan's hand in favor of hopping onto the front seat. “Front. I'm the only one that knows where we're going.”

  
Ryan blinks but proceeds to mount the bike. “We're going to the carnival, Jace. It's on 34th Street. I know where it is.”

  
“Well, excuse me for trying to romance you, woman.” Jace says, feigning hurt as they pedal towards 32nd. Ryan frowns.

  
“I have a dick. I would like it very much if you stopped calling me woman.”

  
“Uh,” Jace turns his head just an inch. Just enough for Ryan to catch the smirk. “I'll believe it when I see it, _miss._ ”

  
“Stop it. It's not funny anymore.” Ryan warns because he may be gay, but he's a man goddamn you!

  
“You've got lady hair, honey.” Jace teases.

  
“Lots of guys have this hair style. _You_ have long hair!” Ryan whines and maybe he sounds like a bitch but Jace is acting like....like...

  
“I call bullshit. Are you on your period, _Ry-anna_?”

  
“Brendon, knock it off!” Ryan shouts before he even realizes it. It had been like reflex. He's so used to having Brendon walking (floating) around his apartment being annoying and now “Brendon, knock it off!” is Ryan's default response to all annoyances.

  
A silence falls over them and it's awkward seeing as they're both in control of the same bicycle so neither one can walk away or stop or really do anything but pedal.

  
“You called me Brendon. _Again._ ” Jace murmurs although he doesn't seem all that surprised which is weird to Ryan. “Who is he? You can tell me, Ryan.”

  
“No. I don't want to talk about it. Just, let's have fun tonight. Please? I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier.” The older boy says as the tandem rolls into the mall parking lot where the carnival is being held.

  
Jace doesn't answer as he gets off the bike and Ryan swear, he swears that he hears _Brendon_ say, “Later.” As in Brendon's voice, all honey smooth and warm.

  
“Did you here me, Ryan?” Jace is looking at Ryan like he is mentally disturbed. 

  
“Huh?”

  
“I said later. If you want we can talk later. I'm here for you.” 

  
The two of them are the only ones in the parking and Ryan knows, he _knows_ that he's only doing this so that he won't think about Brendon again, but he does it anyway. He tilts his head up and kisses Jace. It's nothing too pornographic, just a closed-lip peck. Means nothing.

  
When they separate Jace is grinning like an idiot and all is well. 

  
Ryan is the first to break the post-kiss haze. “Alright then. Now that I've asserted my dominance, can we go ride some shit?”

  
* * * 

  
**BRENDON:**

  
Brendon maybe has an internal monologue going the entire date because he doesn't even _hear_ half of the shit Ryan says. His head is full of s _hit, shit, shit_ and _how can he not know that I'm Brendon?!_ Along with the occasional _cotton candy, cotton candy, lollipop, ice cream._

  
Other than that, the night is going pretty well, Brendon thinks. They've both eaten their weight in deep-fried everything and it's nice out. The sky is pitch black and the stars are out. Brendon always thought of stars as heaven's freckles. Or heaven's venereal disease. It really depends on how he's feeling at the time.

  
Most of the carnival goers have gone home for the night or had already visited during the day, so there aren't many people around to stare at the two grown men holding hands and leaning against one another.

  
They're just walking past the Zero Gravity ride when a carnie decides that it is the perfect time to harass them.

  
“I can guess your shoe size! I can guess your first name! I can guess the car you drove to this carnival! Step right up and see if you can outsmart the Great Cardini!” 

  
The guy is shouting through a cone and Brendon kind of thinks he's the biggest creep he's seen yet. The dude has inky black hair, wide blue eyes and a crooked smile. There's another guy there as well but he looks to be running the prize booth. He has dirty blond hair about as long as the black haired guy's. Only real difference is the blond looks a lot nicer.

  
“Hey, let's go over there.” Ryan points to the self proclaimed _Great_ Cardini and Brendon shrugs. He doesn't mind taking some guy's money.

  
“How much, dude?” Brendon asks, pulling out his wallet and Ryan pulls out his as well. The look Brendon shoots him makes Ryan put it back in his pocket immediately though.

  
“Five bucks per guess, my good man. What'll it be? Name? Shoe size? Car? Age? Uh-” The guy looks at Ryan. “-sexual orientation perhaps?”

  
“Excuse me?!” Ryan snaps and oh, boy. Brendon has been trying to avoid this all night.

  
The guy though, he just smiles. “Hey, no worries, brother. I ride the banana express too. I dig the disco stick, I trudge in the fudge, I-”

  
“Dude! Just fucking guess something already!” Brendon cuts, face burning red hot. Ryan doesn't look any less disturbed by the freaky carnie, Cardini.

  
“Alright, alright, let me see...” Cardini presses his index fingers to either side of his temple and stares blankly off into space.

  
“What the fuck...” Ryan looks miffed and more than a little peeved with his hand on his cocked hip. His cocked hip. God, Brendon is drooling.

  
“Alright! I've got it!” Cardini throws his arms in the air before dropping them like dead weights. “You're name is Will and yours-” He points to Ryan. “-yours is Grace. Am I right or am I right?” 

  
Brendon bursts out laughing, clutching his belly. Ryan looks so unamused that Brendon is kind of afraid for the carnie.

  
“Nope. Now where's our prize, Car _dick_ ie?” Ryan demands just as the other guy, the blond, approaches with an apologetic smile and a big stuffed panda in his arms.

  
“I'm sorry about Mike here. He's kind of an asshole. I'm working on him.” The guy explains, Australian accent clear. The other guy, Mike, plants a wet kiss on the blond's cheek.

  
“I'm Michael. Or as they call me in the carnival ring, Chizzy. This is Mike Carden. Or Cardini. Or, Car _dick_ ie, was it?” Michael chuckles, handing Ryan the bear. “Here.”

  
Ryan and Brendon exchange looks of bemusement at the unlikely couple. “Thanks, man. Um, I'm Br...Jace. I'm Jace. And this Ryan.”

  
Ryan waves at the the two guys and Brendon panics internally for almost saying that his name is Brendon. Even though his name _is_ Brendon.

  
“Nice to meet you both. Good to see another open couple, you know? How long you two been together?” Michael asks as Mike nibbles his shoulder. It would be cute if they weren't two otherwise complete strangers.

  
“Urm...we're actually not a couple...” Brendon trails off. Ryan smiles reassuringly.

  
“First date.” He explains and the two carnies nod in understanding.

  
“Oh, well that's just as special, right Michael?” Chizzy pokes the other man to get his attention.

  
“Of course, Michael.” Mike coos and ew. Just ew.

  
Ryan shifts a little closer to Brendon and Brendon get's the memo.

  
“Well, we're just gonna get going. It was nice meeting you guys. Really.” Brendon says, grabbing Ryan's hand and tugging him toward the Ferris wheel. Mike and Michael say their salutations before going back to gazing lovingly into each others eyes.

  
Weird.

  
“They were...interesting.” Ryan finally breaks the silence and Brendon sighs in relief. 

  
“Yeah, they were. Nice guys.” And then, “So the Great Cardini thinks you're a lady too, _Grace._ ” Brendon taunts and Ryan has had about enough. 

  
“I'm gonna kick your ass!” Ryan warns but Brendon is already taking long strides up the ramp to the Ferris wheel.

  
“What a pretty lady! Such a handsome woman!” Brendon is singing over his shoulder and Ryan is laughing and the moment is perfect. So _perfect._ The only thing Brendon thinks will make this moment better is being in his own body.

  
But that can't happen until Brendon tells Ryan that he is who he is and not who Ryan thinks he is...or...wait...no. 

  
Whatever. Bottom line is Brendon can't get his body back until Ryan believes that Brendon is still here and in Jace's body. Or something like that. Alex hadn't been all that good at explaining the terms of it all.

  
“Sir, no running on the ramp please.” The guy controlling the ride drawls out, Brendon doesn't really stop running altogether but he does slow down enough for Ryan to catch up and tackle him into an empty car.

  
“You're strong for a girl, Ross.” Brendon points out, pulling himself into a seat and pulling Ryan down next him. Ryan hugs the panda to his chest and it's fucking adorable.

  
“God, you're so annoying, Jace. Just seriously. _So._ _Annoying._ ” The older boy emphasizes halfheartedly. Brendon just laughs as the wheel begins to spin slowly.

  
“But you love it. If you didn't you wouldn't deal with it.”

  
Ryan shrugs. “I'm just good at dealing with annoyances.”

  
“Hm. Me too. I've got tons of brothers and sisters, I've mastered the art of annoying and being annoyed.” Brendon tells Ryan and for a second he feels like crying because. Yeah. He has a lot of brothers and sisters. Brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews that he may never see anymore. Not if Ryan doesn't believe him when he tell him the truth.

  
Brendon needs to tell him the truth. He just...doesn't know where to start. It's not everyday that you die and fall in love with a living person...

  
Brendon is basically treading dark waters here.

  
“Ry-”

  
“Jace-”

  
They both try to speak at once and it would be romantic if the two boys didn't both have such serious things that needed to be said.

  
“Uh, you can go ahead.” Brendon assures and Ryan is frowning, eyes averted towards the moon. It's full and looks like a big flood light in the sky. Like a doorway to another, brighter, happier world.

  
“Brendon...” Ryan says and Brendon's head snaps up. Ryan isn't looking at him though. “Brendon is...he _was_ a friend, kind of. We didn't really know each other or anything but...I liked him. He was this happy, funny, hyper kid. Always smiling even though his situation was as bad as any situation can get. Never really knew how to shut up. He's the reason I deal with being annoyed so well. He was fucking annoying. But in that...adorable, just wanna hug him till he suffocates kind of way, you know?”

  
Ryan's lips are turned up at the corners and Brendon's are doing something of the same. Only difference is Brendon's smile is accompanied by a terrible aching in his chest. The same one he got when Maja told him that Ryan loved him. Told him after it was too late to say it back.

  
“And he asked for my help to...he just needed some help and I was a bitch to him. I mean, eventually I did help him but maybe if I'd been more eager. And faster...maybe he wouldn't have left. I guess he just got sick of me or something. I mean, yeah I yelled at him all the time for doing stupid shit like singing Aladdin at five in the morning or moving my stuff when I wasn't around but he didn't mean anything by it. He was a sweet guy. He was the _sweetest_ guy, actually. And I just let him go. Like it didn't even matter. And...I went to see him in the hospital, you know...once I found out that's where he'd gone to I guess. And I met his mom and...she seemed so upset but she still wanted to just pull the plug...just let him fucking _die._ ”

  
Brendon can picture his mother there, in the hospital crying. And it breaks his heart to know that she'd have let him go so easily. Even knowing that Maja or Alex had done something to hold off the plug being pulled it still pisses Brendon off knowing that his mom would have just let him die.

  
Apparently Ryan thought the same thing.

  
“Why would she just let him go like that? He had to have been the perfect kid, right? Handsome and sweet and talented. I mean I saw it, didn't she see it? And he...his body, in that hospital bed. It was so worn and tired and pale and bruised but it was still the single most beautiful thing I've ever fucking witnessed in my entire life because he looked so peaceful. Not stressed or sad. He always looked sad and he tried to hide it when I asked him about it. But in the hospital bed he looked like an angel. I just. I feel so stupid that I didn't realize it until after he was gone.” Ryan's long fingers are trembling and his face is wet and Brendon can't take it. 

  
“I-I loved him. I fucking loved him! And he left me!” Brendon cringes at the venom in the older boy's voice because even though it isn’t directed at him, it _is_ direct at him.

  
“So if heaven... if heaven is fucking real then you must be listening right, Urie? How can you do that? Huh? How can you ask me for help and just fucking go away without saying anything? I f-fucking l-loved you, you dickhead! I _love_ you.”

  
At this point the older boy is sobbing sporadically and the cart is nearing the ground and Brendon just can't. He can't.

  
“Ryan, come here.” He reaches for the boy but Ryan snatches away.

  
“No! Just, Look Jace. I just realized I can't do this. I can't and I'm sorry I lead you on or whatever. I just,” Ryan hops out of the cart before it comes to a complete stop and the carnie yells after him about safety and all that shit but Ryan is already halfway towards the exit before Brendon is even allowed to get off.

  
* * *

  
**RYAN:**

  
Ryan runs the five miles back to his apartment and to his bedroom. His body is trembling uncontrollably and the tears won't stop and he needs to get away. He _needs_ to.

  
The old suitcase Ryan used to go to his dad's funeral is still in Ryan's closet so he pulls it out and dumps enough clothes in it to last him a few weeks.

He's got the bag zipped and ready, all he needs to do is call Spencer. 

  
The phone rings four times before anyone picks up. “'Lo?”

  
“H-hey, Spin. It's Ry.”

  
There's a shuffling and the sound of feet. “Ryan, are you okay? Where are you? Did that Jace dude hurt you-”

  
“No, Spencer. No. I just. It didn't work out with us, is all.” Ryan holds the cell to his ear with his shoulder as he pulls the suitcase out to the front door.

  
“Oh, I'm sorry dude. Do you want to talk about it?”

  
“Nah, thanks though. Um, I'm actually calling to tell you that I'm gonna go away for a while. Just, to be on my own and shit. To think. I'll only be gone a couple weeks, a month tops.”

  
Ryan hears Spencer's breath hitch and feels kind of like dick for running away from his problems like this. But he can't stay here. Not in Brendon's old place. Not in this city. It's too much.

  
“Uh, right, man. Whatever you need...I'll let Jon know you'll be out for a while. Um, where are you going exactly?”

  
That part hadn't exactly occurred to Ryan. The whole, _where to go_ , thing. But either way, he's still going.

  
“Thanks. Tell Walker I'm really sorry and not to fire me, please.” Ryan chuckles a bit. “Um, I dunno where I'm going exactly, though. I'll call you with the address when I settle in someplace, though.”

  
Spencer sighs. That sigh that he sighs when he really wants to say something important. “Yeah, okay, Ry. Just, be careful. And call whenever. I'm never busy anyway. I uh...I love you, man.”

  
Ryan bites his lip, tasting the bitter salt of tears on his tongue. “I love you too, Spin. Talk to you later.”

  
“I hope.” Ryan murmurs if only to himself as he locks his apartment door and tosses the key in the garbage-chute. Chances are won't be needing it again.

  
He bumps into someone when he turns the corner, though. A guy, tall with brown skater hair and green eyes. He's wearing one of those navy blue maintenance outfits with the sewn on tags. His says “Alex”.

  
“Sorry.” Ryan apologizes, side stepping around the guy with the broom. The guy's green eyes follow Ryan.

  
“No, dude. You totally won't be. Seriously.” He says with a small laugh.

  
Ryan stops and turns around to ask what the hell the dude means by that but there's no one in the hall anymore.

  
Just Ryan and his own pathetic existence.

  
Just like old times.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Serious cliche, mind-fuckery will occur in this chapter. Reader's Discretion is advised.

Brendon only makes it two blocks away from the the carnival before it hits him like a ton of bricks. Ryan had just rejected him. Not directly but still, it had been rejection. Ryan had said that he _couldn't do it._ Whatever _it_ may have been, Ryan had said he couldn't _do it_. And Alex had said...Alex said that...

 

“Fuck...” Brendon curses under his breath. _Fucking, fuck, fuck_. _What the fuck am I going to do now._

 

The cool night air sends a chill up Brendon's spine as he picks up the pace. So many things are going through his mind. Does he just...call for Alex and let the angel take him to heaven or...what? What is he supposed to do? Ryan rejected him, why isn't Alex here to be a smart ass and take Brendon's humanity away?

 

Of all the times for a stupid motherfucker like Gaskarth not to be here-

 

“Hey, now, sir. That is not at _all_ endearing. I hear your thoughts, you know? I'm not totally impressed by how you view me, Mr. Brendon.” Alex is suddenly in front of Brendon, walking backward as he talks face to face with the irritated and heartbroken boy.

 

“Lemme tell you. I can totally go up to the big guy and be like, “Bro, homie, my ninja, that Brendon kid? Totally fucking disrespecting my authority, you feel me? He is-”

 

“I don't care.” Brendon barely manages to murmur as he side steps around the blabbering excuse for an angel. Alex reappears almost instantaneously at Brendon's side.

 

“Excuse me, what did you just say?”

 

Brendon stops, giving himself a moment to really think about the situation. Think about all of the shit he's been through. Having to go through being raped and drugged by someone he _believed_ to be a close friend. Watching his own _mother_ sell his apartment because she didn't have any hope for him. Meeting Ryan. Falling in love with Ryan. Losing Ryan and being put in this sorry excuse for a new body and now _this._ Being this close to finally getting his body back. Finally getting _Ryan_ back and...and it all gets ruined because...

 

Brendon isn't crying. That is one thing he refuses to believe is happening. “I said, I don't fucking care, Alex, okay? Just, just do whatever it is you're planning on doing with me now.”

 

The two boys are standing on the sidewalk at the corner of 4th and Fremont (A/N: I had to, guys. Had to) when it starts to rain. The older of the two is dressed in dark jeans and a red button down. The younger is dressed in all white. To a passer by, it would look as if there is just one person, the boy with the red shirt. To a passer by, Brendon Boyd Urie, or in this case Jace Michael Sanders, is alone, crying, soaked to the bone and broken.

 

Brendon doesn't really give a fuck what happens to him at this point. As melodramatic as melodramas go, Brendon would rather be in hell.

 

“Dude, just. Maybe you wanna sleep on it or something?” Alex suggests, appearing to be unsure of himself for the first time since Brendon had met him. “I'm sure it's just a spur of the moment emotional unhinging you're having now. Look, I'll zap you back to your apartment, okay?” Alex grabs onto Brendon's soaked sleeve and there's a loud _crackle-pop_ before Brendon is standing in the middle of his living room. Alone.

 

“Fucking angels.” Brendon says quietly to himself as he slinks over to his sofa. His body feels like it weighs three hundred pounds and his head is surely about explode or implode, which ever is more painful.

 

Brendon does make it a point to turn his cell off before he goes to sleep. He just doesn't need anyone waking him on what is sure to be his last day alive. There is one new message in his inbox and he almost doesn't check it.

 

 _1 New Message From: RyRy <3:_

 _im rly sry jace. Its nt u im jst knd of fked up rite now. U remnd me of sme1 tht was rly special 2 me. I rly cnt hndle being frnds or mre w sme1 like u. again im sry. Hav a good life -ryan_

 

Brendon reads and re-reads the message a dozen times before he chucks the iPhone against the wall and smiles triumphantly at the cracked screen.

 

“I'm sorry too, Ryan.” Brendon says, maybe out-loud, maybe to himself or maybe not at all. He can't remember anything as the world around him fades to black.

 

* * *

 

 **RYAN:**

 

The sun is reflecting brilliantly off of the pond behind the rented condominium Ryan is staying in. There are two kids down below, running around in circles. Both of them are little boys. One has dark brown, almost black, shaggy hair. The other has lighter brown hair in a kind of bowl cut the warms Ryan's heart a little. Ryan wore a bowl cut from age 4 to age 10. He _knows_ the pain and embarrassment it brings, okay?

 

The thing is, the shaggy headed one doesn't seem to mind at all that his friend has the dorkiest haircut known to man. Nope, the shaggy headed boy- who happens to be wearing bright red and is maybe a tad bit ADHD- is jumping all over the bowl cut kid who in turn is playfully pushing shaggy kid away. It's kind of beautiful in that way that true innocence is. Two children, not yet tarnished or contorted by the imperfections of the world. Ryan wishes that he could go back to being a kid again. Somehow it seems like he needs to start over.

 

A man and a woman- their parents, apparently- approach the children with brown paper bags, handing one to each child before making their way back up the trail and out of sight. Ryan watches as the two little boys run off in the direction of the pond where there are two birds. Two birds that Ryan had distinctly not seen earlier.

 

One is clearly a swan, all snow-white feathers and elegantly arched neck. The other is a goose maybe. It's feathers are just as white with a tinge of brown and flaxen that you have to squint to see. Ryan thinks they're easily the most beautiful birds he's ever seen. Suddenly- as if by force- he wants to go outside. Maybe take some pictures to send to Jon? Jon would love that...

 

Ryan picks up his cell on the way out, switching it into camera mode. He knows Jon will bitch about quality but it's not like Ryan was planning on taking pictures while he was away. Jon shouldn't be such a picky whore. He should be lucky Ryan is even _breathing_ right now and not hanging by a belt like Ryan had planned. Needless to say Ryan has shitty and unreflective plans.

 

Outside, the air is at that amoral temperature that only Vegas can give you. Not hot but definitely not cold. Ryan doesn't so much mind it as he wishes that the goddamn weather would stay in one fucking place.

 

When he get's out there the little boys are sitting on the long bench next the pond. Ryan feels maybe a little like a pedophile creeper but her takes a seat next to the two kids anyway, holding his camera up to take a picture of the lovely birds.

 

“Hi! My name is Maika!” The shaggy headed kid says, turning to face Ryan. Ryan gives him a slight nod. “And this is my brother, Destery! He doesn't talk a lot. But that's only 'cus he's so smart that he writes all his thoughts down. And sometimes he lets me look at them and sing them and stuff. What's your name?”

 

Ryan can't even think of why he want's to hug the little kid. The way he bounces up and down and can't stop talking. It reminds him of Brendon. Hell, everything reminds Ryan of Brendon. “Cool. I'm Ryan.”

 

“Really? No way!!! My dad's name is Ryan! You totally actually kind of look him but not really 'cus you're younger and you look all sad and my dad is like, never _ever_ sad! 'Cept maybe when I touch his guitar but I never do that anymore.” Maika says, shaking his head matter-of-factly. The kid must be five or six because his vocabulary is extensive. The other boy, clearly older and a whole lot more reserved, gives Ryan an apologetic look.

 

“Sorry, he kind of likes to talk. A _lot_.” The boy, Destery, says before throwing another piece of bread out to the birds. Ryan notices that one of the birds is gone. The flaxen one. All that is left is the swan with the piercing blue eyes. Ryan snaps a photo as Maika shouts at his brother.

 

“Father said that I have a beautiful voice?! So, _ha_!” The boy pokes out his tongue before turning back to Ryan. “We have two daddies! There's Daddy Ryan and- Ouch! That hurt, Destery!”

 

The older boy had smacked his younger brother against the head. “What did aunt Maja and uncle Alex say about giving out _that_ kind of information to strangers, Maika?” Destery gives Ryan another, less apologetic and more suspicious, glance. “We have to go anyway. Our parents are probably home from their show by now. Bye, Ryan.”

 

Ryan watches as the two boys run off towards the exit where the man and woman that Ryan had believed to be their parents are standing and waiting. Ryan can't help noticing how familiar the two people look up close. The blonde, Ryan had seen somewhere and the guy, Ryan had definitely seen last night. In his apartment building wearing that maintenance uniform.

 

“Small world...” Ryan sighs to himself, turning back to get a couple more shots of the birds only to find the pond empty.

 

“Great...I only got two photos.” Ryan sends both of the pictures to Jon before heading back to his condo for a nap. It's all he really can do, anyway.

 

Before he lies down Jon texts him back.

 

 _1 New Message From: Jwalk:_

 _why did you just send me a picture of an empty pond ryan? Where are you? Spencer wont tell me. Im worried. Please call??_

 

Ryan blinks at the message, scrolling back down to view the outgoing MMS he'd sent. Surely enough, there are just two grainy cell phone snapshots of the murky pond. No beautiful birds. Just water.

 

Ryan texts Spencer next.

 

 _U cn tll jon_

 

With that he curls up on the bed that isn't his and falls into a troubled sleep.

 

* * *

 

 **BRENDON:**

 

Brendon isn't sure where he is at first because it's far too dark. There's fog...no, _smog,_ covering the air in thick sheets and the street lamps aren't doing much to create any kind of viewfinder.

 

Brendon squints at his surroundings and when he sees an old oak next to a bench, he knows exactly where he is. In the oak tree is a white owl with big green eyes that sparkle with sarcasm- if animals could be sarcastic.

 

Brendon looks out further into the smog and sees it. The white swan with the piercing blue eyes. The bird is resting in the dead center of the pond, eyes trained on Brendon. He's back in Central Park.

 

“Maja, Alex, what's going on?” Brendon asks outright. It's no surprise to him when the two angels appear next him where his taken a seat on the bench.

 

“First off,” Maja begins in here thick accent, “I would like to say I do not appreciate you sending me away to be replaced by this dimwit.” She glares at a smirking Alex who makes smoochy face at her. “But, I decided to help you out a little.”

 

“We _both_ decided.” Alex cuts in. Brendon doesn't look at either of the angels. Instead he trains his eyes on the middle of the pond where the full moon is reflecting off of the surface of the midnight black water, big and mighty and snow white. Brendon wonders if that's God watching over him. Then he remembers that he doesn't care.

 

“We paid a little visit to Ryan and-”

 

“You talked to Ryan?” Brendon demands, turning his full attention to Maja. She shrugs.

 

“Not _exactly_. We...listened in while we had a couple of our Spirit Angels...talk to him for us.” She explains. Brendon frowns.

 

“Spirit Angels? What?”

 

Alex speaks now. “Yeah. You know how the Bible says that we're all God's children? Well even before we're born we're God's children. And there are subcategories of angels in heaven. One being the Spirit Angels. Those that have yet to be given life.”

 

“So,” Brendon tries to wrap his mind around what he's hearing. “So, some unborn kids talked to Ryan for you? What did they say to him?”

 

“Too much. Damn kids.” Alex grumbles but Maja clears her throat obnoxiously loud.

 

“It's not what they said, Brendon. It's what Ryan heard. Whether or not the Spirit Angels spoke of rain or the newest video game it....all that matters is that they left their Spirit Mark on Ryan Ross.”

 

The fog around Brendon is steadily dissipating as he begins to feel drowsier by the second. “So, what...what does that mean for me?”

 

Maja just smiles and wraps her arms around Brendon's body, squeezing him tightly. “It means you get to go home. But don't worry. Alex and I will always be around.”

 

Alex chuckles, patting Brendon on the back rather hard. “See you on the flip side, Urie.”

 

Brendon tries to respond but the streetlights just seem way brighter than they should be. Blinding even. Yeah, no. Brendon can't fucking see anything but lights now.

 

It feels as if his world has just dropped from beneath him and his body shudders at the feeling.

 

“ _...moving? I just...moving?”_ Brendon can hear voices as he drifts in and out of consciousness. A woman's voice. And as he listens closer he recognizes it as his mother's.

 

“Brendon, baby. Can you hear me, honey?” Mrs. Urie is leaning over Brendon's body, perhaps far too close for comfort if Brendon actually cared about anything other than being able to fucking hear his mom again.

 

He feels his mouth open and maybe he says, _Mom or Tom or Bomb,_ but whatever he says sends his mother into hysterics. Happy hysterics but hysteric nonetheless.

 

Brendon wills his eyes to open and the florescent lights makes him squint harshly up at his crying mother. Her face is sickly pale and her make-up is running down her cheeks in thick black lines. Really, it looks like something out of a bad funeral movie.

 

“M-mom, stop crying. You'll get tears in my hair.” Brendon murmurs, voice cracking at having not been used for more than a month. His words send his mother launching into his arms.

 

“Oh, Brendon. I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I...I though I lost you. _We_ thought we lost you! Baby, don't _ever_ scare us like that again, do you hear me, mister? I don't care _what_ you say, I _will_ send you on that mission. I _will_ , Brendon-Boyd, don't you tempt me!” Mrs. Urie looks down at her son. The boy's bruised skin has healed and is a uniform milky white now. His big brown eyes are tired but hold that sparkle that they formerly did and he's smiling that ample grin that she loves so much.

 

“I love you so much, Brendon. I just want you to know that.” She says, running a shaky hand through her sons matted brown hair. “So, so much.”

 

Brendon doesn't bother wiping away the warm, salty tears that are streaming from his eyes. “I love you too, mom. And I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have been doing the things I was doing. I should have listened to you. I was being a terrible son and I promise-”

 

“Brendon, honey. Shhhh,” Mrs. Urie shushes her son, gingerly rubbing the wetness from his face. “Don't apologize. Everyone makes mistakes. Don't get yourself worked up about that. We'll talk about it later. Now, let me just go get your doctor and let him know you're awake.”

 

Brendon nods, although he still wants to apologize for everything. Things that are his fault, things that aren't. He just wants to apologize for _everything_.

 

Brendon let's his eyes wander to the open window to his right. The sun is beaming brightly, illuminating the yellow walls of the hospital room and on the windowsill are two little birds. One white with blue eyes and one brown with green eyes. And they're singing. The brown one is so off-key it's almost petrifying but Brendon smiles anyway.

 

“Thanks, guys...” He says, knowing the two angels can hear him. And maybe it's totally cliché but they maybe sing a little louder.

 

The door of the hospital room opens and an older, balding man that Brendon is to assume is his doctor enters. He doesn't go to Brendon though. He goes to the window where the birds have stopped singing and are looking like they're planning an attack.

 

“Shoo! These two have been showing up on this window every day these last couple weeks. SHOO!” The doctors flings a hand out at the birds. The white one squawks but obeys, flying away but the brown one pecks viciously at the doctor's hand before escaping unscathed.

 

The doctor gives Brendon a half smile. “Sorry about that, Mr. Urie. Damn, birds. Don't know when to leave well enough alone. Anyhow, it's good to see you awake. You've been in a coma for seven weeks and seven hours, son.”

 

Brendon flinches at that. He should be dead. He really should. “It's nothing short of a miracle that you're alive.” The doctor- Dr. Morrisey, his badge says- is sticking a thermometer in Brendon's mouth, checking his heart rate and reading his heart monitor at the same time. “I honestly didn't think you'd make it out of here alive, I won't lie.” Dr. Morrisey finally steps away, writing on his chart. “Must be friends with someone up there, eh?”

 

Brendon doesn't know whether to cry or laugh hysterically, so he just settles for, “Yeah. Guess so.”

 

Dr. Morrisey smiles at him. “Well, your vitals look amazing. You should be set to get out of here tomorrow morning, Mr. Urie. Anything in particular you looking forward to doing?”

 

Brendon nods to himself, Ryan's face filling his mind. “Yeah. I've got a few things in mind.”

 

“Excellent. Well, those meds should be kicking in soon, so get some rest and by the time you wake up, you'll be free to go.”

 

Brendon makes it a point to thank the doctor before the drugs knock him out cold. He doesn't dream though. He doesn't even imagine. He just _floats._ And honestly, it's the most peaceful he's ever been in his entire life.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendon Urie's Quotable Quote that is Quotable: "And the good Lord did say; Let them rock out with thine cock out."
> 
> A/N: Hi, hello this is Arlinda. I really hope you didn't mind the cliché/confusingness of this chapter. It made sense in my mind, okay? And I make up the storyline as I write each individual chapter so I never know what the plot will be. This one just so happened to involve Spirit Children and owls and swans and a really mean Alex-Birdie. Honestly, I hope you liked it despite the constant mind-fuckery. And I'm planning on making this a ten chapter story with an epilogue to explain the Maika and Destery thing. Um, that is all I suppose. Oh! And the name Maika is owed to the lead singer of the band There for Tomorrow. The name Destery is owed to my favorite YouTubers DesandNate. You should check these guys out. Great band, great youtubers.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, I shall see you on the flip side, bitches!
> 
>  
> 
> -Your Mom (Arlinda)


	9. Chapter 9

I don’t really know where to begin, here. I suppose beginning at the beginning is the best. I’ll start by saying sorry. I have been missing from AO3 for something to the tune of five years. The last time I uploaded or even wrote anything was when I was at the prime age of 19. Well, hello, I’m 24 and after reading the messages from everyone who took the time to read my fics, I have decided to keep writing.

I don’t know if anyone will read this, if anyone will give a shit, but the bandom has evolved. We’ve lost some bands, we’ve gotten others back. Some have disappeared completely. But they live on in our hearts- just as inspiring and homo-erotic as we all love to remember. 

Some of you guys are long time enjoyers of my content and I would love to hear your preferences on my current unfinished works and what you want to be updated first.

I will begin uploading again on Friday, October 13th with a nice spoopy drabble for you all to feast upon. I do however need some suggestions. That means if you’d like a specific pairing, maybe a specific band, scenario, setting… Just leave it in the comments and I will work with what I receive. 

It will be a 3-part anthology. I will shoot for a solid three stories and attempt to tie them together by the final chapter (think, American Horror Story: Bandom).

It’s going to be fucking awesome. 

Again, thank you guys for your continued support over the years here on AO3 and I can’t wait to hear some of your ideas!

-Cobrapandemic


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